Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

**Author**: TheSiner

**Title**: Unconditionally

**Genre**: Drama, Romance.

**Pairing**: Harry/Draco; Ron/Hermione.

**Summary**: HP/DM slash. Harry secretly keeps Draco locked in his attic and hates himself for that, but can't help it and Draco hates Harry. Complications ensue. A disturbing love story.

**Rating**: If you are not a teen, don't read this.

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates.

**Warnings**: slash (duh!), a bit dark maybe, disturbing, swearing, non-consensual/dubious content, character death mentioned (not main), explicit sex. Not betaedited.

**Setting** after Voldemort is defeated. HBP compliant, contains spoilers for HBP.

A/N: This story is not going to be as fluffy as my stories usually are. Some readers might find it disturbing or not. How can I know what disturbs people these days?

There is a bit of drama and relationship which could be viewed as unhealthy.

There are things I am not putting in the warning, so you are still taking a risk by reading this. Be aware and don't blame me.

The story is not betaedited. I just can't make myself to stay in contact with someone for that, so it is as it is. If you see something screeming, you can let me know and I will fix it.

Draco's POV 

I hate him. I loathe him more than any words can express. I abhor him. There are

is no way to convey my feelings strongly enough which doesn't involve considerable blood loses and screaming – all that on his part of course.

I hate his face, his ugly, stupid face which I scratched not so long ago. Now three red, angry gashes are adorning his left cheek. I whish I could hear him making excuses for those gryffindork friends of his, trying to explain where he got these. His little, dirty mudblood and the Weasel King are probably worried sick. I am almost certain that they saw the fine piece of my handiwork, since it took about three days till the miserable excuse for a wizard remembered that he could heal himself.

I know that he **was **pissed off when I did that, I just know that there was hot, ugly rage somewhere behind that façade, under that mask of insufferable calm. I know that he was angrier than an offended hippogriff when I did that, when I dug my nails in his skin and drew his dirtied blood out where everyone was able to see it.

Father would disapprove - physical violence is so muggle, but sometimes nothing is more satisfactory than a sound slap. Funny how it turned out that I had something in common with Granger. Zabini had a gall to imply that I was fighting like a muggle girl after that unfortunate incident.(1)

But it doesn't matter, what is important – I have had more than enough practice and I know how to hurt and anger and I did my best on the Hero of The Wizarding World.

I was waiting for him to fly into a rage as usually, but for the first time in his life he didn't. It only made me to hate him more if that was possible at that point.

I hate Harry Potter more than anything.

Then without another word he tied me to a chair and chopped off all my nails. There was no use to remind him that there was a spell for that.

Now they are too short and ugly. Never before in my life have my hands been in such appalling condition.

If I just had my wand… but even Potter is not stupid enough to give me a wand, or maybe he doesn't even have it. The possibility that he has lost it makes me want to slap him again. There are not two identical wands in existence and even if I got a new one, it wouldn't be the same. Something that had been as good as a part of me could be lost for ever. I can't even stand imagining my wand broken or burnt.

It's all sodding Potter's fault.

I don't have much to do so sometimes I lay awake and look at the ceiling thinking about all the spells I could cast on him if I only had a wand. You would think I'd use Avada Kedavra straight away, but, no, not really. No, there is a fate far worse than death. And I certainly wish that fate for Potter the muggle-loving idiot.

I would tie him to the floor and strip off all those awful, disgraceful muggle clothes of his, the kind I am also forced to wear. Then I would start with a bit of blood boiling, the curse is quite easy to cast, but it hurts like hell while doesn't actually damage, because it only makes one think that his blood had become unbearably hot and is about to fry victim's body from inside, but doesn't do any real damage to the body and after you can just keep torturing.

Of course there is always a chance that the victim could get a heart attack, but I am quite sure that it wouldn't happen to Potter, he is young and strong enough. If someone wanted to torment him they would have a lot of fun before he would break.

After the blood boiling curse I would cast a strong itching hex. Might not seem so bad, but it is. Imagine when all your body and I mean it, all your body is itching intolerably, but you can't do anything, you want to scratch so terribly, but you can't touch yourself. Maybe I would show mercy and let one of his hands free, let him scratch himself till his skin is bleeding and raw.

The next would be the bone crushing. Not too much, I'll just crush all the bones in his fingers, one by one, till he wouldn't be able to hold his wand even if he had it. Then I would start cutting him up. Little by little I would slice his skin, cover it with little cuts, not deep enough to kill, but enough to drive him mad, especially after I had conjured some salt water and poured it al over him… and that would be only the beginning. I know a lot about torture.

I know plenty of nasty curses and hexes. The one which makes the victim to scratch their eyes out, the one which peals of their skin by one strip at the time. There are plenty of spells which just make victims believe that something is happening to them, that their bodies are being damaged while they don't leave a scratch which means that it is possible to keep up the torture for days. And there is no reason to forget potions; I probably know even more 'dark' potions than hexes and curses.

There is that endless and pointless discussion about dark magic, some wizards claim that there is just magic and the intent is what makes it dark. Idiots. With what intent one would cast a blood boiling curse if not dark? How is it possible to make flesh from someone's feet rot off without having a dark intent? And?

But then there are those who claim that the dark magic is corrupting. That's tosh. It is as corrupting as a sword in someone's hand. One can use it to chop firewood; the thing is that if one has a sword, then it is highly unlikely that it had been bought for chopping wood. If one learns certain spells, it is also highly unlikely that they had learned them just for knowing.

But still if someone takes too much liking for nasty spells, it had nothing to do with their nature or some mysterious addictive magical properties. The only one who was to be blamed was the wizard and his own malicious nature, not the nature of spells.

Of course the intent it somewhat important, because it is impossible to cast a dark spell if one didn't want it to work. But the same is true about vingardium leviosa.

Does knowing a plentiful of supposedly dark magic makes a wizard dark? No, not really, I should know that… But on the other hand – why would someone learn dark magic if hey don't intend to practice it? Well there actually is a good answer to that, but… and then, I could kill someone easily with leviosa – such an innocent spell, every first year learns, but if I levitated someone and then let them go… SPLASH!

If someone says that the dark magic has that mysterious force which somehow lures and enslaves them, they are hypocrites. They just don't want to take the responsibility for being rotten, petty, selfish and cruel. If I expel someone's intestines through their nose, then I am doing it because I am evil and cruel and I like to make others suffer.

I would like nothing more than show Potter how good with all those nasty spells I am.

But it's not like I have a wand.

If I had I wouldn't be here anymore.

I wouldn't be here, locked in the attic. I guess I must be grateful that there are no dungeons in this house. Such a nice house this is. Isn't it sweet? No dungeons. Ha!

This is Potter's parents' house. That much he told me himself, it was about the only of my questions which he truly answered.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"My parents' house, The Godric's Hollow," he replied.

Godric's like Godric Gryffindor's. How typical. You are such a cliché Potty. Trust Potters family to live where Godric Gryffindor himself has dwelled. And this is the place where I am going to spend the rest of my life.

Sounds fatal.

But that's how it is. That is exactly what I am doing here, in Potter's attic. If everything goes as Potter wants it, I will be spending the rest of my life here. He hadn't said that, but I just know.

Of course there is the second choice – Azkaban. If Potter hadn't wanted me here, I would be rotting in Azkaban and hadn't cared at all, because my soul had been sucked out long time ago. Maybe it is my luck that Potter was the one who found me, not the aurors or whoever else is there on the 'Light side'.

Or maybe it's not, because now I am doomed to spend the rest of my life locked up in Potter's attic. It's probably a lot better than Azkaban, I mean the living conditions. Well, I know it is better. My father spent there enough time and had the chance to share with me like a good father he was. He suggested quick, painless death, said that they would never catch him alive the second time. And they didn't.

Potter's attic is not bad if you compare it to dim and dirty cell in company of dementors who surely were back to their guarding duty as fast as the war was over and, knowing the Ministry, were received with open hands. The room is big enough, it's done in light colours – the wallpaper is light green with some kind of little flowers and there is a beige very fluffy rug on the floor. Is this meant to be some kind of colour therapy to re-educate dark wizards?

Then there is the extra large bed which I don't really like to look at. There is a wide charmed window in the roof. When I say that it's charmed it means that I can see everything what is happening outside, but no one from outside can see me or any window at all. I can feel the wards shimmering on the surface. I am no foolish enough to try to break it.

I sometimes look out of it, but there is nothing much to see, only the muggle village down in the valley which is nothing particular, some houses, stores and a church and woods around the village. But the village is quite far, so I don't see any muggles from here which ironically would have been nice… but it could be worse, I am lucky that the house is on the top of the hill and there is nothing obscuring the view.

There is a table, a loveseat and a couple of chairs in my room, there isn't anything interesting about them. I have an en-suite bathroom, nothing grand by the wizarding standards, but nice enough with a tub and a shower both. I don't have to leave the room to take care of my basic needs. How convenient.

My favourite in this room is the rug. During the daytime I prefer it to the bed and the loveseat. It's nice to lie flat on it and rub my cheek against the long, incredibly soft fur. It is comforting in a way. I love soft things. Like socks made of yeanling wool which I used to wear to the bed, especially at Hogwarts since the castle was usually cold and draughty.

This Godric's Hollow wherever it is, is definitely closer to the London than to the north of Scotland, so it's a lot warmer here. But I still miss my socks and my flannel pyjamas. The ones which Potter gave me are very fine silk, they are very high-quality and probably expensive and no one would have guessed that I prefer flannel, because it's cosier…

Oh, for Salazar's sake! My world had fallen apart, I am become my enemy's prisoner and here I am ranting about my pyjamas! Well, but I have all the time in the world to think and rant about unessential things and to talk about them to myself. It doesn't look like anything I do would make Potter to let me free.

Even if he did let me go, I would probably be leaving for Azkaban. This probably is still a lot better than that. But it doesn't mean anything, I still hate this place and I hate Potter and this existence like a puppy kept in this comfortable box.

There is no point in fooling myself. I don't really have a choice. Even if I asked Potter to give me over to the aurors, to deliver me to Azkaban, he wouldn't do it. I know, because I already asked. After he took me here and nursed me back to health, I asked, no, not asked, demanded to let me go to Azkaban, but he didn't. I trashed the damn room. I jelled at him, I told him in detail how I tortured Ginny Weasley before the ugly bint died…

Despite my best efforts he did not bat an eyelid. Ignored me completely. Potter replaced the bedding I had shredded and all the insignificant damage I had caused – there was not much in the room I could destroy, but I had put my heart into it – destroying things the muggle way is not easy for someone who is used to use magic for everything… he even healed my hand which I had cut on the bathroom mirror when I broke it. Potter didn't even listen to anything I said at least there was no reaction from him and with Potter's temper that was something unexpected.

Potter, Potter, Potter… maybe if I curse his name enough times he would drop dead? I really have too much time on my hands. My only entertainment is those stupid books he brings me… and Potter himself.

But Potter is not very entertaining after all. Not the way he was when we were still at Hogwarts. He is so solemn and quiet, so unresponsive to whatever I say. Whatever insults I manage to think up – Potter ignores. Wouldn't even talk to me.

He gives me clothes to wear; he gives me food to eat and ignores me.

I told him how I killed muggles, how I put a woman under imperius and ordered her to kill her family. It's an old death eater trick, not really original, but no one can say anything bad about classics. But he doesn't even look at me. Isn't he self-righteous enough?

I don't understand Potter, I really don't, if he despises me that much, and I know he does, then why does he keep me here, in his house? Is it really worth it for him?

I hate him, hate him… like a mantra it is for me now…

To hate and be so weak and helpless, not being able to do anything about it, not being able to went my anger… it is so… it hurts somewhere inside me.

I brush my cheek against the comforting carpet again. I just love the thing. I hate the bed. The bed on which Potter fucks me.

The high and mighty Boy-Who-Lived is not so high above fucking a death eater scum like me. When I thought that there was nothing that could especially surprise me, I found out that the world was full of surprises. My surprise was Potter's cock up my ass. Who would have thought? I wouldn't have, before it happened, never ever.

I was not myself after the battle, after the one which lost my side the war. I was quite shocked when I opened my eyes and could feel my body aching like it had been mauled by a pack of angry hipogryphs, which meant that I was still alive though. That was not something I had expected after I saw a spell shooting my way. I was even more surprised when I hazily saw Potter looming over me. I couldn't do or even say much and passed out again pretty soon.

Next time when I woke up I found myself on another bed in the attic room. Potter was there again, and I knew that it had not been a dream. I demanded an explanation in the best Malfoy traditions and was ignored completely. Potter just gave me plenty of potions and let me sleep. When I woke up, I had recovered enough to trash my room and demand him to take me to Ministry, aurors, Azkaban or wherever. I just wanted to be somewhere else. I couldn't stand being there with him. I couldn't stand being in his debt for saving my life. I didn't want him looking at me with concern, pity and disgust and something else which I didn't understand.

"No,"

He said 'no' and gave me another strange look, his eyes… they are brilliant green, stern and cold, but burning with some kind of strange fire in the same time, his expression was just unreadable. It almost made me to shut up. Almost.

Instead I shouted and tried to hit him. But Potter just grabbed me by the wrists and held my hands away from him with no effort at all. That moment I realized how much taller, bigger and stronger than me he had gotten. Or it is me, who haven't grown much during the last two years.

Nevertheless I knew that if he just squeezed his fists, he could have crushed my bones effortlessly.

I guess I was a bit overwhelmed by everything, I was just standing there feeling lost, confused and caged… and then, then Potter was gone. My room was as good as it had been before and I was locked there alone behind wards so strong that I could feel the magic pulsating around me woven through the walls, doors, floor, like an invisible web.

I knew when I didn't have much choice. It was not the first time; I had had a lot of experience with such things. So I took a shower and put on the silk pyjamas which had appeared on the bed while I was in the bathroom.

I climbed on the bed which was quite large and canopy-less. I didn't mind though, during last year some of my fastidiousness had been cured. I was going to annoy Potter about it anyway, but deep down I just loved it. The linens smelt clean, not just spelled clean and 'not dirty', but clean and there were two big and soft pillows. And there was no smell of death. Yes, the bed was so perfect for me that I felt like crying. But I just don't cry anymore. There is no point; there isn't anyone who would listen to my tears.

I fell asleep trying not to think too hard, live for this moment, the moment where I am lying in a nice, clean bed and that is all what matters. I ordered myself to concentrate on smell of clean linens and warmth and soothing dark surrounding me.

I had no idea how long I had slept when he woke me up, but I could see the stars through the roof window as I opened my eyes. Potter didn't do anything, but I knew that he was there. One learns such things in a war. He looked very strange and I was not sure what to say, I was pretty much startled to see him sanding next to my bed.

"Lie on your stomach," Potter ordered and I did, for some strange reason, I simply obeyed, I guess I had been trained that way, to obey those who were stronger than me and was still too confused after just waking up to remind myself that it was only Potter.

I just had no idea that… well for what reason I thought he was asking me to do that? I don't know what I was thinking he wanted. No, I was not thinking, just complying as I would comply my father or the Dark Lord.

But when he yanked away the blanket and got on the bed I came to my senses or rather freaked out, but I knew that this was wrong and whatever was happening had to stop and my only thought was to get off the bed and as far as I could from Potter.

He didn't let me. He straddled my upper legs, his strong, muscular thighs pinned me to the bed. Then there were hands on my hips and he pulled off my pants. I was petrified. I knew I had to tell him to let go of me, scream to let me go, but words just didn't come out. They got stuck somewhere in my throat. I tried to throw him off, I thrashed about, but it didn't help me anything, he really was a lot stronger than me…

"Stop fighting and I won't hurt you," he hissed. Potter's voice was low and throaty, and for some reason it sent shiver down my spine. The order was emphasized by his hand on the nape of my neck which showed how easily he could hold me in place if he wanted so. Potter was right. There was no point to fight him, I couldn't win, he was stronger than me.

So I was lying still while he was doing what he wanted to me. It almost didn't hurt though, it just was extremely strange and uncomfortable. As usually Potter was noble and probably it could have been worse if he hadn't prepared me so thoroughly. He was very thorough, very careful and almost gentle. I guess that was what he did stretching me with his fingers. He used a lot of some kind of oil and that was so weird. I didn't know what to expect, but since it didn't hurt I was relieved more than anything. I had imagined something more brutal and painful.

Still when I felt the head of his cock at my entrance and I had to bite the pillow to stop myself from begging him not to do it, because I didn't want to beg, I knew that it was not going to change anything, he was going to do it anyway. I knew that it was wrong, so wrong that he was taking something from me, something that should be asked for, but I knew that there was nothing I could do.

Then he entered me. It burned. It was uncomfortable, it burned more than the fingers, but was still better than some things I had endured.

He pushed in me and I bit the pillow twice as hard. Then Potter started thrusting. In and out… he kept touching me, his hands caressing my buttocks, my back and then something happened, something I had never felt before, something I couldn't have imagined, a wave of hot pleasure shot through me again and again and I would swear that I saw the stars. I think I totally lost all the self-awareness and then suddenly I came. Came hard. I didn't even noticed that Potter had also finished.

When he slipped out of me I could hear it, the sound was wet and… I felt him climbing off the bed and a bit later I there was a wet and warm wash cloth on my bum, between my cheeks as he cleaned me and after that pulled back my pants and finally tucked me in as if I was a child not someone he had just raped. The mess I had made also had vanished. I don't think that I had seen him with a wand in his hand even once since I am here though…

After I heard the door close, I couldn't sleep. Once more I wished I could cry, but Malfoys don't cry. I've been done with weeping since my sixth year at school when I was caught by Potter. Can't even express what an embarrassment was that, since I try not to loose my body fluids on self pity. But still I miss my tears sometimes.

I just hugged one of the many pillows, curled with my head under the blanked, creating a cacoon of illusory safety around me. I just had to hold on something…

(1) – for those who have forgotten, Hermione hit Draco in the fourth book.

Harry's POV 

I hate myself. I hate what I have become with as much passion as Dursleys has always hated me. Finally I have something in common with them, finally I understand them. They thought I was absolutely rotten and now I agree with them. I am.

Some days I whish I were never born or Voldemort had dragged me to the hell with him. Now I have become this, this… this someone who can't look his friends in the eye, because he is ashamed. This someone who can't look in the mirror, because he is disgusted with himself.

I have a secret and it is not a little dirty secret, it is quite big and ugly hidden in my attic behind the strongest wards I could master. I have to keep my secrets safe, because as far as the Wizarding world is concerned, Draco Malfoy is dead or missing and supposedly dead, not locked in Harry Potter's, The-Boy's-Who-Lived, The-Vanquisher's attic.

If the Wizarding world only knew how low their beloved Saviour had fallen.

And the funny thing about it is that even if indirectly, it is still Voldemort's fault. He keeps influencing my life, my fate even from his grave.

I had no idea what exactly had happened after my severing curse had hit Voldemort. The first moment I am aware of was when I opened my eyes and found myself lying on the ground. But it was not as simple awakening. It felt as if I did not only open my eyes but all my senses suddenly came undone. Keen awareness washed over me and I felt almost dizzy, drunk on scents, sounds and senses. I sat up and my head was spinning. I had grown up in London and never before had felt especial closeness to nature, but all of a sudden I understood it all, I felt connected, for the first time in my eighteen years long life I could feel myself as a part of everything.

But unfortunately it didn't stop there. As well as I could feel grass growing, hear beetles crawling in it and smell the soil underneath I could feel other odours around me and they were a lot less pleasant. Death. I could smell burnt, rotting flesh. Sweat, blood and other bodily fluids.

The scene was as horrid as it could be expected, fallen bodies everywhere, not only witches and wizards, but creatures as well. Blood and gore, mangled corpses.

I couldn't stand it anymore, I had to get away from it all. I stood up and walked straight into the woods nerby. I not only wanted, I **had **to get away from all that madness. I couldn't look at his HIS body, if that could be called body at all, it didn't look very human, mostly skin reminding me of old parchment stretched over a carcass of bones. I hoped that there would be someone to clean this up properly; I wanted nothing to do with it. Hadn't I done enough already?

I couldn't help it; I still can't help it, but feel like this all was my fault somehow. All those deaths and suffering which could be prevented if Voldemort had been gone a day, a week or a year earlier.

It is complete dragon shit, of course, if I think about it rationally. There was nothing I could have done and even if there was – it doesn't work that way. Could have defeated him sooner maybe? Sooner when? I am a fucking kid, am still just a kid. I am eighteen years old, other guys my age are just finishing the school, hanging out with their friends, but I… I am running around, looking for those damned horcruxes and loosing people who are dear to me… Cedric, Hagrid, Seamus, the list is endless.

Ginny. She was the one who was supposed to survive the war with me, who was supposed to mourn with me those who were lost and with whom I was supposed to celebrate a new beginning, it seems that everything would be better if Ginny were here with me, that she could make everything right… I was supposed to save her. I was supposed to save her and marry her and we were supposed o be together forever.

And a traitorous part of me thinks that maybe it is better that she isn't here. It is a selfish thought, but I am somewhat glad that she is not here and can't see me now and doesn't know what I have turned into. Well, now I know that we were not meant to be anyway.

Ginny is dead. Kidnapped, tortured and killed by the Death Eaters. Draco Malfoy who is one responsible for her suffering and death is in my house now. I am spitting on her memory and on my parents' memory by keeping him there.

And all because I walked in that damned wood after the battle. I realise that I was not simply trying to escape the scene. It was as if something was pulling me in there. The calming, earthly odour of moss and putrescent leaves and dry pine needles and resin was not the only ones I scented. There was something much fragrant than any flower, tastier than chocolate and more energizing than coffee. I couldn't resist the pull.

And there it was. A small body almost lost in a Death Eater's robe which looked as if it was way too large for him. I turned him around. His distinctive silver blonde hair was streaked with dirt and there was a red, angry bruise on the pale cheek.

He groaned in pain, whimpered like a hurt puppy. And then I knew that I couldn't leave him there, I couldn't leave Draco Malfoy lying there cold and alone in the woods. I lifted him up in my arms, which was very easy even when I was tired from the battle; he was lighter than a feather to me. it was as if all he strength left in me was pulled together just for him.

I should have done the right thing – taken Draco to the healers and then he would be tried and sent to the Azkaban. But then suddenly I couldn't bear the thought of letting him out of my sight, of letting someone take him away from me. I didn't understand. Something came over me, I apparated straight to the Godric's Hollow.

I carried him inside; I took of the damned, dirty death eater robe and cast _incendio_ on it. I couldn't look at the damn thing. I put him on the sofa and checked for injuries. It was not that bad, he was bruised terribly, one of his arms was broken, but I had a potion for that. My storage was full of all kinds of healing potions; I had needed them on a regular basis while dealing with horcruxes and Death Eater attacks. Malfoy's clothes were in a terrible condition. Even I could still see that once they had been fine and expensive, but had been worn too long and had gotten scruffy cuffs. I just took them off. Only then I saw how skinny he had gotten. Maybe not dangerously, but close. I could count his ribs.

I carried him to the bathroom, put him in the tub and run the water. I took the flannel and gently washed him. I ran it along his angular shoulders, narrow chest, I washed every finger; I didn't miss a single patch of his skin. Then like a child I wrapped his petite body in a large towel and carried him to the attic where I had build a guest room just in case as I was renovating the house. I decided that I had never seen a man who had features so fine.

I laid him on the bed and tucked in the blanket. I kissed Malfoy on the forehead.

Only when I left the room I started fully realise what I have done.

Draco Malfoy was a murderer, a dark wizard, a coward, scum…a Death Eater after all!

But his skin was so soft and radiant under those bruises; it burned the tips of my fingers as I touched it. His hair was like the finest silk when I run my fingers through it. His lips were rosy, full and tempting, his eye lashes - pale, long and I ached to see his grey eyes again, silver and alive like mercury especially when he was angry. And I could smell him now, and more strongly than ever, like many things and Draco was the sweetest of them all. It was driving me mad, it was divine…

I had lost my mind.

I knew what I had to do. I had to call the aurors or at least Ron and Hermione who were most likely already looking for me.

I looked at myself. I was standing there still wearing the same dirty jeans with torn leg and scruffy ends. Covered in mud and blood. I was still a mess. I decided to clean up and then figure out what to do about all this… or what not to do.

I did. I took a shower; I put on a clean shirt and a pair of slacks. I even firecalled The Burrow and Kingsley Shacklebolt, letting everyone know that I was fine. Did I tell somebody of the fact that Draco Malfoy was in my house, lying unconscious upstairs in my bed? No. I didn't.

I returned to the attic room. He was lying on the bed so slight and childlike as if he was an innocent babe, not a cruel, ruthless death eater. So beautiful. Like an angel. Who would believe that the fair creature had more in common with a demon who brought misery and devastation?

How many wizards, witches and unsuspicious muggles had killed the wand which was held by those delicate hands?

Why does Draco Malfoy have to be so stunning?

Since I brought him into my house he is constantly on my mind and nothing can change that.

While he was unconscious and weak I could pretend that the fair creature I ache for is something else. He was calm and quiet and I could just sit by his bed, look at him and play with his petite fingers.

But then Malfoy woke up. He broke everything what was breakable in the attic room. And the first thing he did when he saw me – he yelled at me. Called me names, asked me to take him to Azkaban, threatened me even. I told him 'no'.

I went downstairs and made myself a cup of tea. I had a reason to calm my nerves. I needed it. There I was sharing my house with the vicious little prick that did everything he could to make my life unbearable whenever he had a chance.

Why didn't I do what he asked? Why didn't I give him to aurors, to ministry, to the wizarding world which would eagerly tear apart the one who caused break-in into Hogwarts and Albus Dumbledore's death and probably had done a lot more since. That was something I was supposed to wish myself, he deserved the punishment for all his crimes. What was wrong with me?

I went outside. I couldn't bear to be in the house anymore. It was getting dark as I walked to the graveyard, to my parents' grave. There they lie, forever young, forever together, a couple made in heaven.

Standing there at my parents' grave didn't offer me consolation.

They were just there lying quiet and emotionless. My parents have never been very real for me. They have always been like icons, a picture on the mantel – which I actually have there now – never real people. Of course, I owe them everything; I owe my mother for her sacrifice. The hell! The entire wizarding world owes my mother. It is her sacrifice that kept me alive, that weakened Voldemort and gave me a chance to off him about a week ago.

But when has the wizarding world given anyone a proper credit or punishment?

Maybe it is not that bad that I am not giving them a chance to punish Malfoy.

Speaking about Malfoy. Unlike my parents he was very real and alive and very close and I was painfully aware of it. I could hear his heartbeat, the rhythm which was unique, only his, feel his every breath. So close to me…

I let my legs carry me. Or I didn't let, they just did. Before I realised it, I had returned inside and I was climbing upstairs. He was asleep already, slumbering peacefully; obviously the people who he had tortured and killed were not disturbing his sleep. There it was the fairness of world for you.

I shouldn't be having those thoughts, I know I shouldn't. I was so disgusted with myself when I drew back the blanket which was covering his lithe, sinful, tempting body; his skin looks almost radiant in the moonlight. He opened those mercury eyes and if I had any doubts or hesitation I lost them, took just one look in his enchanting eyes.

Draco was still in a sleepy daze and when I ordered him to lie on his stomach, he obeyed without hesitation. I hate to think that he might be so obedient because he is used to taking such orders. There were a lot of rumours about Malfoy's sordid affairs when we were still in Hogwarts, but I never thought that he would take this position. But then – what did I know about him? I never thought that he would really become a death eater, not sure why, but I didn't.

He became aware of the situation when I climbed on the bed, but it was easy to overpower him. When I pulled of his pyjama bottoms all the blood in my body rushed to my groin, his bottom was perfect… I conjured oil; I didn't really want to hurt him more than necessary.

I wanted to take off his shirt too. I wanted to shower his body with kisses and caresses… but if I did… I couldn't go there. I had to keep some control and distance. I had to remain in control. There had to be a line I wouldn't cross, I had to keep my sanity somehow.

This, this I could excuse somehow or maybe I couldn't, but I also couldn't stop myself.

Can I excuse this? Is it justice? Does Malfoy deserve to be held prisoner in my house? Does he deserve to be used by me as, as… I can't say it, I can't even think it.

No, I am not corrupt enough to fool myself claiming that I am executing a just punishment over him. That I am punishing him. But I also know that I don't have a reason to feel sorry for him. This is still better than he deserves. I care for him. He is well fed and comfortable and what I am doing to him is less than he had done to other people. And it doesn't matter. He should be answering for his crimes. I should stop committing mine.

But it is too late.

I hate myself for what I am doing. I couldn't probably sink lower. But the thing is that I can't help myself, I can't stop myself. He is more intoxicating than any drug to me. I need him, I crave him desperately. I can't wait to get the next fix. I can't let him go. I don't want to let him go. It is as if I am ruined for ever. I have an incurable addiction.

Draco Malfoy.

When I leave the house to meet Ron and Hermione, to visit Molly or for a Ministry function I found myself fidgety and uneasy. Anxious to return as soon as I can.

I can hardly express how much I detest myself for having this abominable obsession with the slytherin I have hated since I have known him. I am helpless, I am desperate.

How can I be so infatuated with someone like him?

The things he tells me sometimes, well not sometimes, whenever he has a chance. As I chop his fingernails after he had scratched my face, he tells me how he killed muggle children who were playing outside their house when the death eaters attacked. He says that they were little freckled redheads, reminded him of Weasleys and they were screaming without sound, because he cast a silencing charm on them not to alarm their parents. He says he used crucio. If young children are held under it long enough, the pain is too much and their hearts can't stand it. They pop like nurbangs, in the heat, he says and I have no idea what 'nurbangs' are, probably some obscure potions ingredient, but I got the picture.

I ignore him. I ignore him completely. I refrain to think about his victims as real people, I don't think about them. If I said anything or did anything I wouldn't be able to stop what I have started. If I slapped him, I would probably stop only when he would be beaten into pulp. If I said something… well, what good words would do? What good would it do if I called him all the nasty words I had on the tip of my tongue? What if I told him what I think about him? Then I had to tell him all the things I thought about him and that would give Draco power over me.

And that's not all, in some perverse way I think I like hearing his voice and it doesn't matter what the words mean.

If it's any consolation then I think that my silence riles him up more than anything I could probably say. But it's not consolation, because it hurts me to think that he is such a cruel, ruthless monster. That he has no consciousness, that he feels no regret and that he enjoys talking about all the torturing he has done, all the suffering he has caused.

It pains me greatly that I am helplessly enamoured with this, this monster.

Hermione's POV 

Harry has been acting very strange lately. I ask him if everything is fine and as expected he insults us with a fake smile and confirms that everything is fine and dandy. At the moment I regret more than ever that I am too well behaved to reply to his lie with a string of colourful words which Ron is so found of despite his mother's endless effort to re-educate him.

I glance at Ron and I see that even he has not been fooled, but tries to hide it. We know that there is no point to start interrogating Harry; he would just avoid us the next time, which he has been doing lately anyway. That house of his! I am starting to think that restoring it was not such a great idea after all since it is too perfect for hiding. It is almost impossible to get him leave the Godric's Hollow these days. And when we come over he gets all nervous and fidgety as if he is very uncomfortable and doesn't really want us in his house.

This is ridiculous! We are Harry's best friends. Together we have been through a lot, we have been through hell and survived. It counts for something! It must! That is why it hurts me so much when Harry doesn't trust me. That he keeps secrets from us.

I am trying to be patient and rational about it.

There is a great chance that he is having the kind of depression people sometimes have after big events, something they had been waiting for and preparing for, something they had dedicated all the effort to and when it is over, people sometimes doesn't know what to do with themselves. But somehow I don't think that it is bothering Harry.

We have discussed the situation with Ron. Ron said that 'Harry is a bloke' and there are certain things 'blokes' don't want to share much. He went all red and 'admitted' that guys don't want to appear to be weepy and weak and sharing all their feelings. He thinks that sometimes I am prying too much and if I wanted to have all those girly talks I should 'hang out with other chicks more'.

Naturally I went appropriately ballistic as Ron suggested that. But when I think about it, I must admit, that I can't expect all the people to agree with me, would be nice, but… that is exactly what Voldemort did after all. I know that I might want to tone done my self-righteous tendencies a bit.

Sometimes Ron is such a… guy, I guess. But sometimes he says things which are simple, but genuinely brilliant. Or sweet. He can bee so sweet sometimes!

Well, at first he was trying to keep me out of Harry's hair, so to say, but now he admits that he is as worried as me. Harry is hiding something important and possibly dangerous or just painfully embarrassing. I hope it's the second, because no matter what people say – no one had died of that yet.

Maybe it **is** something personal after all. But what?

I can't completely blame him if that is the case. Me and Ron. Us. We also have our secrets, maybe not really secrets, but private things, things we keep between ourselves as a couple. It is strange in a way.

There were always three of us. When we were younger I sometimes felt a bit left out since Ron and Harry became friends first and they were both boys, had a lot in common and naturally got along better. But now I am with Ron. I am close to him in a way Harry will never be. We love each other and no matter how reluctant I am, but I would be lying to myself if I said that friendship is as important as love. Of course I love Harry. But I LOVE Ron.

I and Ron, we will become a family sooner or later. I hope that we will get married and have children. Only it is breaking us three up in a way. The closer I and Ron are getting, the further we are drifting away from Harry. If we don't adopt him or something…

But none of us can stop worrying about him. That we are abandoning him, pushing him away and hurting him. It would be different if Harry had someone. We would feel less guilty. But Harry doesn't. He is alone. He doesn't seem even interested. It is not healthy. It can't be normal.

I think that it would be different if Ginny was still with us… I can't even think about her death without tears in my eyes. It was the loss that hurt us the most during this war. It is not a proper thing to say, because one can not compare such things, but Ginny was special. She was like a ray of light. The fire burning in her warmed us all when it got too cold.

Maybe he is still mourning her. He says he is. But it can't go on like that. He has to move on. Harry is alive, he must live. He must remember that the living are more important than the dead.

That is the spirit in the wizarding world. The threat is gone, we are all finally free to live, to hope, to have dreams, to believe that they could become true. The losses had been great, but there is a future to look forward to. People are falling in love like mad; everyone is dating frantically, getting married, trying for children.

But Harry is locking himself up in that damn house if we don't drag him out forcefully.

For god's sake – Harry is a hero! The-Man-Who-Lived, The Saviour, The Vanquisher, The-Boy-Who-Lived-And-Saved-The-World and so forth. I can't even list all the silly titles they come up with. Wherever we go the witches are all over him. Ron joked that he wanted to know what kind of aftershave he is using, because sometimes it seems that people find him just irresistible.

He could choose whoever he wanted. Even some wizards had a gall to flirt with him. But Harry is a bit better than blind to their advances.

Well, if he can't forget Ginny that is fine. He doesn't have to fall in love straight away. I can't believe that I am saying it, but he doesn't have to get married, I believe that a roll in the hay would do him a lot of good. Take that b… witch Lavender Brown. She is practically showing her enormous boobs in Harry's face whenever we meet her.

I don't like her, but she would be perfect for a little tension relieving affair. Don't men like big…err, cauldrons, anymore?

Ron was shocked when I suggested him to talk with Harry about it, make him look in the right direction so to say. Who does he thinks I am? I explained him that sex is a natural thing and a physiological need. And needs has to be taken care of or else they distract people from other important things and mentioned a couple of interesting facts about sexuality in general…

Ron needed a bit to digest everything I said. Some of those who had grown up in the wizarding world are such prudes! They had interbred with non-humans for Merlin's sake! This is kind of society in which they are holier-than-thou in public, but in the meantime are doing unimaginable things behind closed doors in their mansions and dungeons.

I know that I finally went too far when I hypothetically asked Ron if he had any idea how his parents came by seven children.

I guess, I got a bit carried away and he really didn't want to hear that.

Well, after Ron had calmed down and absorbed what I told him, he decided to have a friendly chat with Harry.

Harry rebuffed him completely. Didn't even let the conversation to go there and when Ron insisted, told him outright that he really didn't want to talk about it, maybe some other day.

Some other day, which was never going to come.

We can't help him if we don't know what is wrong. I hope he will tell us before it's too late. Well, I hope it's nothing life threatening and usually that's too much to ask.

Oh, Harry. I really want to now what is happening with you…

Draco's POV 

I guess, I have accepted the fact, that I will never be free, some time ago. One master just takes the place of the previous. That is the way of things with me. I am a slytherin after all and we are survivors, no matter what.

My father was the master of Malfoy manor, a proper head of the family. I miss him very much. Father was strong, he took care of everything. We were Malfoys and many people envied us, hated us, feared us, but none of them dared to go against my family. It was a marvellous feeling sometimes. Everyone bowing down in front of us. However sometimes it was hard, because I knew that they were waiting for a chance, for a slip, for an opportunity to tear at us, destroy us like a pack of feral werewolves, thirsty for our blood.

We were in danger. Father reminded me that all the time, never let me forget who I was.

Father was the one who kept those dogs at bay. He was strong, unrelenting, cold-blooded and we were protected, I was safe.

But what no one knew was how generous my father could be. If I only mentioned that I wanted something, I got it. If I ever complained about something, my father not only listened, but tried to correct it. I wanted new toys – I got them. My tutor was being nasty – he was removed and I got a new one. I wanted friends, my father brought me friends. I knew that there was someone who would take care of my needs, who would solve all my problems.

I was so naïve.

I had a nasty shock when I went to Hogwarts and found out that father's power was limited. He couldn't do everything. He couldn't get Potter expelled and Dumbledore removed from his position; he couldn't make McGonagall stop staring at me as if I were something smelly and ugly; he couldn't get the damn hippogriff executed.

I still had more than others. I if I wanted something, I got it if it was possible, yes, my father bought me a place on the Quidditch team, because I loved to play so much… not that I wasn't a good player, but those Nimbus 2001 brooms definitely secured my position.

Of course, I am not being completely honest here, Lucius was also a demanding father and if I didn't do what was expected, there was always a sever punishment. I tried very hard to please him, but very often my best effort was not good enough. It hurt.

But, still, with father I felt the safest, because I knew what was expected, I knew what was going to happen if I didn't meet expectations, my life was predictable and safe and he could be really giving when he wanted to be.

Besides I had a mother. I would do everything to have her back. I don't want to think about it, I don't think that I will ever get over loosing her. According to Lucius I was too attached to Narcissa.

However it was not long after I lost my father, when I got a new master. The Dark Lord. He was twice as demanding and not generous at all. More demanding than my father and more powerful. I didn't feel safe at all, I was never safe, on the contrary, my bad luck could get worse every moment. My hands were constantly shaking. There was no way to negotiate, disobedience was unimaginable and no excuses were accepted. It was hard to tell what he wanted and usually he wanted more than one could give. His servants never knew when they would be punished, or why and how.

And sometimes I had complained that my father was too hard on me… oh,

what a clueless child I were before I started to serve The Dark Lord.

But I had to. There was no choice for me. I was to serve The Dark Lord, exterminate muggles and mudbloods to establish order in the wizarding world.

It was that or… in the end my service didn't make a difference. The only thing I wanted out of it, I didn't get. And I knew that I might not. And still I had to try.

How long I was relieved of my last master, before I got a new one? Mere moments, and I was not even aware of the freedom I had gained. Freedom. That's an interesting word, 'freedom'. Something I know nothing about. It sounds oh so tempting and sweet, but dangerous as well. I don't think I know anything about it. I am not sure if I know enough about it to muse over it.

Maybe it's like flying on my broom for no reason, just for fun, not because there is a quidditch match or something, knowing that there is no one watching. I loved that.

Oh, but it is not like Potter will ever let me to have a broom or fly on it or let me outside at all. Every Master sets rules, there are always restrictions. My restrictions here are very clear – I am not to leave my room, my cell. Sometimes I think that maybe if I asked, if I begged, maybe Potter would let me outside, just in the yard, in the garden. There is a really nice garden around his house; I can see it from the window.

But I don't ask. I am not going to ask Potter anything. Never. I will not beg him. He has power over me, but he is still Potter and I have exactly that much dignity left. No begging. That is my own rule. The one freedom I still have here.

Yes, there is one thing I know about freedom, I know how to find it in captivity. With my father I always knew that I could misbehave as long as I was ready to take the punishment.

With Voldemort I could take some pretty wild risks, because being there already put me in mortal danger. Still breathing could be as punishable as anything else, so why not to make it worth it?

In a way Potter is not the worst of my masters, the one I hate the most, that is true, but not the worst.

My father… well he is long gone and I loved him, but he was not strong enough to protect me and mother and that life we had was just not meant to be, so I better don't compare him to anyone, that all was too good to be true and remembering my life before The Dark Lord returned just hurts, so I try not to think about it as something I lost, I think about it as something I had for a little while.

I couldn't hate The Dark Lord, I was too afraid of him. I didn't dare. He could give me everything one moment and take everything away next and he did.

I am at least free to hate Potter. I had a lot of reasons to hate him and he doesn't punish me for hating him. It is funny. Potter doesn't punish me for anything. I can throw a fit and break all the dishes and he just casts _reparo _and carries on as if nothing had happened at all. I even harmed him, I made Potter bleed when I scratched him, but he just took it and decided that he should cut my nails afterwards. I can scream at him on the top of my lungs the nastiest insults I know, but he just stays quiet or leaves and closes the door after himself. Doesn't even bang it! I can tell him how I had tortured and killed and he looks as if I have been reading to him from a dictionary.

He just looks at me sometimes. I hate those looks; I really do… he looks at me with disgust, regret, pity? Well I don't really know, I have no idea what is happening in that head of his after all. I just wish I could get some reaction out of him, something at all. Something to bring some normalcy back into my existence.

I think about it. I can't figure out why Potter can't be like a normal person. It takes time, but think I have it figured out. It is not he, who is not normal. He just doesn't treat me like a normal person. With his attitude he shows me that I don't deserve to be treated like a person.

I know what is happening. He treats me like a pet, like an animal that can't be accountable for its actions.

I wish he punished me. I wished he lost that stony composure and stroke me across face for once as I probably deserve for all the badmouthing. I wish he punished me for something. I wish he said at least one world to me, because it would make me feel at least bit more like a real person and proved that I am still good at something.

But I am not a person for Potter; I am an object or an animal, a pet at best. He despises me. I think he hates me as much as I hate him. I probably deserve that.

Still he keeps me here. Still he comes to me almost every night.

Sometimes I think that Potter's strange compulsion to fuck me is why I am here. Sometimes I just don't know and I think I would feel better if I knew. But all my questions stay unanswered. Nothing I say or do changes anything. He just feeds me and fucks me.

I tried to ignore it, I tried not to think about it very hard and of course the more I try not to think about it, the more fixated on it I get. Besides it is kind of impossible to ignore the fact that I have someone's prick buried deep in my ass every other night. I can't really pretend that it is just a dream, because I can still feel it when I wake up in the morning, my body remembers everything, it remembers him in me.

I don't mean that I feel pain. Not really, he doesn't hurt me. I think he is being very careful and what he does with his fingers first is because he doesn't want to actually hurt me. Probably for his own sake, for his conscious which is still somewhere there telling him that what he is doing to me is wrong. It should be - he is Harry Potter and a gryffindor. But I don't see it and it is not stopping him.

I don't understand. I want to know 'why'.

Sometimes I think what would happen if I asked him to stop. But I don't, I don't ask him anything, I don't beg. Malfoys don't beg. I want to keep at least some kind of pride and dignity. If I begged him to stop and he didn't then, then what would I be? He wouldn't stop even if I begged; I know that, I am not going to humiliate myself unnecessary and that's it.

I have gotten used to it anyway. I just wish I wouldn't come every time he touches me, then I could feel like I had kept some dignity at least, but when he sinks so deep in me and brushes against that something and I just loose control over my body in the same way as I have lost control over my life in general. I try to excuse it as a natural reaction, but id doesn't help me feel less disgusted with myself. And then that stupid ritual of cleaning me afterwards. With a cloth. For fucks sake! He is wielding wandless magic as if it was as simple and natural as breathing! And can't vanish some mess!

Why I am so mortified… oh, that's because I sometimes become hard again as he's doing it. That's beyond… I try to will it away, but it doesn't always work, so I have to go to the bathroom and take care of myself. I feel so dirty, because of it, because he is… damn it… I don't want to say, but… he is violating me and it shouldn't feel good and it doesn't and it does.

I am screaming in my head every time he thrusts in me and I am not sure why anymore. Then my traitorous body suddenly finds the stimulation pleasant. All of it is so disturbing.

What hurts the most is the fact that it is obviously not even me he wants, I bet, he is imagining someone else while he is with me, why else he wouldn't even look in my face while he's buggering me. Am I not worth that much? Am I not good enough to be touched for real? Doesn't he want to kiss me and look in my eyes as he comes? I have been told that my eyes are of most unusual grey colour. But he doesn't care; he treats me like I am not even there, I am just a body. I wonder if anything had been different if I had been already dead when he brought me here.

The fact that it hurts is even more wrong than everything else about my life.

I just don't have control over anything anymore.

I am loosing myself. I am helpless. The only person I see is ignoring me, despising me. I find myself thinking that maybe there is something I could do to make him notice me. Not like the things I was doing all the time, breaking things and telling him gruesome death eater stories. No, nothing like that.

I find myself thinking that maybe if I said him that I was sorry and I didn't really mean all those cruel things I said, maybe he would… or maybe if I smiled at him and were nice… I don't have anything to offer, but he obviously likes my body, maybe… Oh Circe! I think I am loosing it, I am going insane. I feel so lonely and isolated. I feel desperate for something, anything at all… soon I will be ready to do anything for one word from Potter.

I really wish I could cry, I am sure that crying would take away some of the anguish I am feeling. But I can't cry. I have promised myself that I will be strong and I will not cry ever again. But I don't feel strong I feel helpless and sad. I feel numb.

I can't stand it anymore…

Harry's POV 

I just came back from The Burrow. I was seeing Ron and Hermione. I love my friends, but I feel relieved when I finally manage to get away from them. I feel like I can finally let out the breath I was holding.

It is ridiculous. I shouldn't feel uneasy when I am meeting my friends. I am not going to complain that they are too noisy. Well, they are (kind of), at least for my tastes. But it is my own fault that I can't look them into eye. There wouldn't be such problems if I were not hiding things from them and lying all the time.

There would be nothing to lie about if I didn't keep Draco Malfoy in my house.

I go to the kitchen. I have to prepare him lunch. I want to do something anyway, keep busy; wallowing in guilt is no fun. So I open the fridge and get some lettuce, Italian tomatoes, cucumbers, onions and other vegetables just in case. I have decided to prepare some steamed fish and rice as well. As far as I know, Malfoy doesn't mind sea food, at least hadn't complained so far. Cooking is something I can enjoy, despite that Dursleys made me to cook for them all the time. It was one of the pleasant chores after all.

When everything is ready I take a plate and put a portion of rice on it, a piece of fish and some salad, I pour some pine-apple juice in a large glass. I have no idea what juice he likes the best, since Malfoy doesn't comment on them, so I try to bring him a different kind every day. The only one he didn't drink for some reason was peach, so I didn't serve that anymore. I've just always thought that the pumpkin juice is not that grand at all; especially if that is the only one you get to drink nine months out of twelve for seven years. And it's kind of bland.

I take care of him.

I give him what he needs. I bring him food, clothes and books and the most expensive grooming products I can get my hands on. I think he should appreciate them; Malfoy has always been kind of vain. Or at least he has always looked like someone who spends time on his appearance.

I don't know if there is anything else he could want, because he never asks for anything, he just yells and insults me. Well lately he even doesn't do too much of that.

He is awfully quiet recently and if honestly I am worried. I try not to make a big deal out of it because it is possible that this is just one of his moods. Only I am so aware of him, it is like every single breath he takes imprints somewhere deep in me. It is as if I am collecting his every sigh, every move, absorbing every word he says.

And now suddenly Draco is very silent and I miss hearing his voice no matter how cruel his words are when he uses it. Insulting Malfoy is a Malfoy I know and…

When I open the door he is lying on the rug. I almost can't see his face, because his nose is buried in the fluffy material and obscured by the wisps of silver blonde hair. The colour is amazing. I have never seen anyone with natural hair like that. It's getting longer, I wonder if I should trim it for him, but I kind of like the length, it means that there is more of that silver blonde beauty.

I put the tray on the table and look at the small figure on the floor.

He hasn't changed out of his pyjamas. Usually he does. Dresses and does his hair as properly as if he was going out. I hope he is not ill. I don't think so, he shouldn't be, he doesn't appear ill to me. For some reason I think I would know if he was really unwell.

I decide to let him be and leave the room. I have a couple of letters to write.

Later, when I come back into the attic room to retrieve the tray it looks like Malfoy hasn't moved from his spot. He hasn't touched the food at all. I leave the juice and take away the rest. I decide to leave it be for now. I can't force-feed him after all. Well, probably can, but don't really want to I am not going to use reasons like that just to touch him.

That night when I come into his room Malfoy is still lying on the floor. It makes me angry for some reason, angrier than all the nasty things he ever said. I don't think that he is even asleep. I take a deep breath, let it out and unclench my fists. There is only one thing I can really do. I go to him, kneel and lift him from the floor. He is still so light and warm like a kitten and smells so nice. When he is in my arms with his head so close to me I can't deny myself it, I breathe in and savour the divine smell of his hair. The things he's doing to me…

I put him on the bed. Malfoy doesn't look at me. He turns around lying on his stomach and lifting his bum up from the bed a bit as if offering it to me. Of course he thinks that I… that I came here to… and he is right, he is completely right. Oh, Merlin… I sink on the floor next to the bed and look at his back. The curve of his back is elegant so inviting… his bottom is so round and firm not hidden well under the thin silk. I want nothing more than reach out and touch him anywhere… everywhere. I am insane. He drives me crazy.

I feel familiar burning in my eyes. I am so fucked up… so fucked up… I reach out; I take his hand and rub it against my cheek. It's so soft, so fine. The nails I cut myself are getting long again, soon he would be able to scratch me again and I wouldn't mind, because so long that had been the only way he has ever touched me… oh God, I am pathetic. I place one little kiss after another on the pads of his fingers. His fingers are so long and elegant for a hand so small.

I fondle his hand and silent tears are running down my cheeks. Why isn't he someone else? Why isn't he a better person, someone I could love freely, without feeling any guilt, someone who loved me? Why?

He falls asleep. It's good. Sleep will do him good. Maybe it will pull Draco out of the strange mood.

I get up and go to my own room. It is on the second floor, right below the attic room. I had to change rooms so I could be closer to him. Naturally I also cast a strong monitoring charm on his room, to keep him safe. Still, I am a bit worried. Every time I leave the house I am worried that I will come back and Draco won't be there. But at the moment I have nothing to worry about; I can just close my eyes and fall asleep.

The next morning things are better. When I bring him breakfast, I see that Malfoy has taken a shower and he is wearing proper clothes. A white shirt made of thin material and a pair of dark grey slacks and socks of the same colour. He doesn't really need shoes here. I have bought him those clothes myself. I don't have any fashion sense, but there are enough stores on the highstreet with very helpful sales assistants who are ready to help me. Besides there are not much ugly things I could get there, so it would be hard to buy something too awful even if I tried.

He is sitting in the arm chair and reading one of those books I brought him.

Malfoy doesn't even look at me. Not at all, he is so immersed in it as if it held all the secrets of the wizarding world (don't think he would be interested in the secrets of the world in general). I leave the tray with eggs, toast and bacon and I leave him be. Damn him, I whish I knew how he likes his tea at least!

Later I come and take the empty plates; I am relieved that he has eaten, even if not all of it, he eats like a birdie, I am used to it. Then I bring him some sandwiches and lunch in the evening, he is eating. However he is still ignoring me. I don't hear a word for him. Well, that also means that he is not spitting insults at me, but it's so quiet like this and I don't even see his eyes, since Malfoy is avoiding my gaze so stubbornly. I am not sure what to make of it. I can't claim that I understand people at all and Malfoy, well, I think that Malfoy is something completely different anyway. I am not even imagining that I could compare him to other, regular people. I guess he would be pleased to know that I find him so exceptional. Not always in good ways, but I can bet that wouldn't matter to the brat so much.

That night I come into his room like every other day, but I don't wake him up. I just sit on the floor by the bed as close to him as possible. So close that our noses are almost touching. He is so beautiful. I don't want to disturb that beauty. So I sit there looking at him, learning every line on his face, whishing I could learn even more about him.

Next evening I can't stay at home. It's all Hermione's fault. Well, not really, but I have to blame someone, because all those parties, gatherings, balls make my mood awfully sour. Or whatever they are calling it this time.

It is something in honour of Rufus Scrimgeour's daughter who had finished her education in Beauxbatons. I told Hermione that I don't like Scrimgeour and I don't know his daughter, but she insisted that the party was not really about Sandrine Scrimgeour and I must show up just because I must and whatever… it is easier to do as she wants than fight. I swear - she's taking lessons from Mrs. Weasley and I am yet to see anyone under fifty saying her 'no'.

Maybe I could go and resurrect Voldemort to stop being their vanquisher and hero. I don't say that aloud though. One can never guess how a girl would take a stupid joke. Besides many people still take him so damn serious, still wouldn't use his real name – I think if they knew that I am thinking this they would run screaming.

I guess that one more of those social functions wouldn't hurt. I have been at so many. It appears that people do nothing else, but party these days. They always find one reason or another. Every week I receive owls carrying plenty of invitations. I usually don't accept the private ones. But as Hermione smartly pointed that out – an invitation from The Minister of Magic is not like that, the party is not as private as it appears to be.

Before I leave, I bring Malfoy his supper – vegetarian lasagne and fresh salad. He is still pretending I don't exist or something. I miss his insults, because I miss hearing his voice. I wish I could stay at home, I wish he knew that. But I just place the tray on the table and leave.

"I will be out late," I say as I close the door behind me, for some odd reason. Does he care that I will be late? Why do I wish he cared?

I leave the house, walk outside the wards and apparate to the designated place. I have never been to the house, but there is a picture of apparition spot on every invitation and it is enough to apparate there. I had no idea that the minister had such a grand mansion, but that is nothing unusual in the wizarding world. All the rich, influential and pureblooded have castles rather than regular houses. But a boy who has been living in the cupboard for eleven years and then in a dormitory with several other boys can't be expected to understand that.

Godric's Hollow is not small as I see it. There is a vast kitchen on the first floor, a library-office a sitting room and a huge dining-room which was used only when there were guests in the house – that was what Remus told me. There is even a basement or dungeon, not sure how to call it.

Remus (smiling sadly) told me that my father decided to build that in for him, in case he needed somewhere to stay during the full moon, but didn't want to make him feel indebted, so he said that it was in case they needed to hide something.

And then there are five bedrooms on the second floor. Five is a lot, more than I will ever need. Godric's Hollow was built by my parents, so it's not that ridiculously enormous.

I am well aware that there is also a Potter family mansion somewhere. It is the house where my grandparents and other pureblooded Potters had lived for generations. Probably I should take a peek, but it is sealed and under some complicated conversation charm to ensure that nothing changes. While I am curious about my ancestors I don't want to live in a mansion so I am not keen to disturb all that. At least not right now.

Scrimgeour's manor is lit up with floating candles and fairy lights in all colours of rainbow. That is typical as well. Some wizards like their stuff absolutely garish. Like Headmaster's robes and hats. But I should not think about Albus Dumbledore right now, it wouldn't do me any good.

The entire merry atmosphere should be inviting, but has reversed effect on me. Malfoy would enjoy this kind of thing most likely, where people dress to impress and entertain themselves with empty chit-chat or politics which I have no understanding about. I don't like the attention, I don't have any reason to show off, I don't want to meet new people, I don't really care for politics and the formal robes I am wearing make me feel like a doll of sorts, a mannequin. It's not me.

It's not long till I am spotted by the host. I don't try to sneak in unnoticed anymore. It's impossible in my case. Never works. Scrimgeour is smiling at me generously; I can assume that the smile is false, because I don't believe that the current minister of magic has forgotten our disagreements. Or maybe it is not false and he really doesn't care anymore, well perhaps it is not important until he tries to do something against me. And I really don't think that world revolves around me, so I feel pretty safe.

Scrimgeour keeps smiling and shakes my hand vigorously. There are the habitual flashes, so I will be in the 'Prophet' tomorrow. Nice. Then he introduces me to his wife Prudence and waves with his hand at some younger witches and wizards who are chatting amiably among themselves.

A girl with blonde hair comes to us and Scrimgeour introduces her as his daughter. Her hair is blonde and abundant, but not bushy as Hermione's, her curls remind me springs, her skin is fair and she has big amber-coloured eyes and a nice carefree smile. I shake her hand as well and she laughs. Sandrine is nice.

Still I can't not to think about the fact that Scrimgeour's daughter was safe, away in the France while Hermione, Ginny, Luna and many others much younger than her were fighting the death eaters. I look in her eyes and I don't see the shadows, the haunted look and the loss there. I realise that probably I have been staring at her too intently; I hope I didn't scare the poor girl.

"I'm sorry," I apologize. "I didn't mean to…mm, stare."

She blushes and laughs and I can feel my cheeks burning up. I am such a klutz sometimes.

Scrimgeour jokes that his daughter often has that kind of effect on young men, but since it's me he doesn't mind. That raises a laugh again. They start making me uncomfortable, I know that if I will not get away while they are still laughing they will try to engage me in a conversation and I don't really want to talk and I feel like I am on a display here…

"My friends must be somewhere around, I would like to…" I make a gesture in the general direction of the wizarding crowd in which I desperately wish to flee.

"Oh, of course, of course, we can't keep The Golden Gryffindor Trio," Scrimgeour nods knowingly.

I personally hate when they call us that or imply that we are or should be joined at the hip in any other way, but I am not going to quarrel. Fuck principles, I want to get lost.

"Yes, the Golden Trio," I mumble. "It was a pleasure to meet you." I nod to the minister and both witches and slip away or more like saunter away awkwardly. I push my way through the crowd nodding at people whom I recognize, but I try to avoid conversations since I am looking for… aha, there it is, like a bright red beacon. Ron is towering a bit over everyone. My best friend is impossibly tall and it is very convenient sometimes, like right now.

Hermione smiles at me warmly: "Don't make such face, Harry, you are scaring people." She makes fun of my obvious misery.

"Hermione's right, mate," Ron says stopping a tray with glasses which is gliding past us and hands me and Hermione each a glass of champagne. "It's a party. Let's enjoy ourselves. And the free food and the free drinks…" he stops as Hermione jabs him. She doesn't think that it's proper to come to the party just because of the free food.

So we do try to enjoy ourselves. It's not that bad. A lot of so called war-heroes are there, actually my school mates, those who survived at least. They are just kids. And the order members and aurors who are actually decent wizards and witches. I talk a bit with everyone and I guess it's the right thing to do, because it obviously makes them happy. Then there are also witches and wizards who are the same age as me, but obviously they have never killed anyone. They are louder and happier than the rest of us. I assume that they are Sandrine Scrimgeour's friends or schoolmates. Some of them speak French to each other. They are looking at me and whispering among themselves. I can imagine what they are saying – _oh, Merlin, he is younger than I thought, can't believe he really killed You-Know-Who, I heard that he killed Bellatrix Black as well. _It is irritating, but I am getting really good at ignoring people. It is the only way.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione approaches me.

"Hey, Hermione," I smile at her. I always try to smile at her and Ron. It has become reflex for me. Like I always need to reassure them that I am allright.

"Who knew that the minister has such a nice daughter,"

"Mhm,"

"Mhm, yes, she is nice or, mhm, no, not really," that's Hermione, has to know facts.

Why is that important now?

"Yes, she is a nice girl, pretty," I say, because it is true.

"You could ask her to dance,"

"I don't like dancing," I am not good at it either, getting better recently, but not good.

"Or you could ask her to have a cup of coffee someday…"

That really gets my attention: "Why?"

"Why? You ask me, why? Why would a boy ask a girl to have some coffee with him?"

Oh. "Oh," now I am really getting it. Hermione's matchmaking is getting less and less subtle.

"So?"

"So, what?" I try to play a fool.

"For God's sake, Harry!" She is whispering furiously, I guess I am making her angry. "Sandrine is a very nice girl who has been looking at you all night long, you could at least talk to her or something, ask her out. I think she would agree certainly. You need a life Harry. Do you know what a life is? Ron and I, we can't make you happy, you need to find someone for yourself. That's what people do."

"Haven't you heard those rumours about how you and Ron are both 'making me happy'?"

She rolls her eyes: "I am not going to comment something that idiotic. Perverts. And don't try to change the subject!"

"I am fine Hermione,"

"No, you re not! You are not fine, you need to move on! We all loved her, we always will, but, Harry, she would want you to be happy more than anyone else. She loved you very much and she would wish you luck with finding someone else to love."

Aha, Ginny, so Hermione thinks I am still pinning after Ginny… what a mess.

"Oi, Sandrine, I should find Ronald, would you mind to keep Harry company here, he says he would like to dance…" Hermione is way too crafty.

That's how I end dancing with Scrimgeour's daughter. She is cute, cheerful and funny and not stupid at all. She is nice and maybe Hermione is right and Sandrine likes me. She says that she had heard a lot about me and that I am exactly as she had imagined me to be. Whatever she means by that. Why would she spend time imagining me? She says that her friends would like to meet me. I am very polite and very vague. She won't be able to say that I promised something.

Still – holding her in my arms feels so wrong. I feel guilty for more reasons than one.

All I can think of is that her hair is more yellowish while Draco's silver blonde and that she smells like jasmine while Draco smells just perfect and if Draco will be able to smell her on me when I come home.

And that is it. I really want to go home. I tell Sandrine how pleased I was to meet her and wish her luck and so on, but I am very tired and this kind of gatherings is not really my thing. She laughs her chime-bell laughter again and says that it's true that I am very modest, but it's cute and she would be happy to see me again and I can owl her anytime. I return the compliment saying that she is pleasant as well, say 'goodbye' and walk away trying not to look as if I am running.

I apparate as soon as I am outside the wards. I can feel a slight buzz from all the fuzzy alcoholic drinks I had consumed and I am missing Draco badly.

I pull off the robe and the bow-tie as soon as I am in the house. I am not going to my room, but straight to the attic.

I open the door carefully; I don't want to wake Draco yet. I feel as if I should apologize to him for some reason, but I know that I am not going to. It is somehow against the rules.

I walk to the bed where he is sleeping on his stomach peacefully. I don't really understand how someone, who has done what he has, can sleep so peacefully. Me, the ones I've killed deserved it and it didn't matter, because I had no choice, it was me or them, besides I still hated it, I still see their faces in my nightmares.

But Malfoy is a different case. How many innocent lives has he destroyed? Is it bothering him somewhere deep inside?

But he will not hurt anyone anymore. I am keeping the world safe from him as well as him safe from the world. It is the best I can do. No matter who he is and what he's done, I don't want him hurt.

I pull off the duvet and Draco still doesn't wake up. I climb on the bed straddling his legs, but I m careful not to disturb his sleep yet. I lean down and gently lift his pyjama top revealing the pale skin of his perfectly curved back. I give it a lick, it's amazing and I do the same again and again, then I switch to kissing. I trail little kisses up his spine and then down again. I want to go lower and so I pull off the bottoms baring the perfectly round buttocks which are begging to be kissed. I don't understand why I haven't done this before, why have I denied myself this pleasure?

I pull the pants further down and leave them around Draco's ankles. I keep trailing kisses down the legs which are covered with almost transparent, silky hair stroking his sides and hips at the same time. I know he's not asleep anymore.

Then I return to his bum, part the cheeks and give an experimental lick there. The body under mine shudders and I hear a gasp. I like it. I can hear how his breathing quickens as I keep licking and pushing my tongue inside. It's so good, it turns out that Draco can make wonderful little noises and he tastes fantastic. I am almost sorry that I have to pull away, but I have to be inside him. I know he needs me inside him.

I slide up his body; I have discarded my clothes some time ago, probably spelled them away. My wandless magic has mind of its own when I am not in perfect control. I burry my face in his hair and my hand is on his stomach for some leverage as I push in him. I thrust in and out; I pull him against me, even closer if that's possible. Then I pull him up on his hands and knees, I want to bee deeper, I want to touch him, I reach around and take him in my hand. I haven't touched him like this yet, but I can't resist any longer. I just want to pleasure him. He's smaller than me; the size is just perfect to fit in my hand. I pick up the rhythm and stroke him in unison with my thrusts. I go faster and faster until he's coming. He tightens around me and I am coming too.

I don't want to let go of him, I stay on top of him, still inside him, my arms around his waist and my cheek rubbing against his hair. He is trembling and it has nothing to do with fear.

"You are drunk," he whispers very quietly, I am not sure he even meant me to hear that, but we are awfully close at the moment.

"Mhm," is all I can answer. I lay us both down and pull the covers over us.

Draco's POV 

When I start waking up in the morning I can feel that I am not alone in the bed. I feel someone's hands round me, one on my chest, other on my stomach and one finger is buried in my belly button which is as nice as strange. I am very much naked under the thin sheet, but I am far from being cold, since the body next to me is warm and alive, a natural furnace, I can a feel strong, manly chest rising up and down against my back as he is peacefully breathing in sleep. And I can feel him half-hard against my bottom which makes my body heat up a bit. I take one deep breath after another and will myself to calm down. It is going to be alright, I repeat to myself.

There is no reason to work myself up in such a manner. If he is here with me, it means that he wanted to be here. Or he fell asleep, because of having too much drink. What if he is upset and hurts me? What if he thinks that this is my fault somehow?

It's just that nothing like this has ever happened before and I am scared. He has all the power over me, he is stronger than me magically and physically, he can do to me everything he wants and I will have to take it, that's why I am so nervous.

He is my master now…

I feel him nudging my hair with his nose where his face is buried in it. Potter grumbles something unintelligible and his breath caresses the nape of my neck.

And then I suddenly realize that I hadn't been held for so long… not that it had happened a lot anyway… that I am being held with two strong arms securely around me, that I am warm and the skin against mine is softer than any material which I have ever worn, I am safe. Potter is strong, incredibly strong and he has never used his power against me since I am here, since I am his. He is taking care of me, keeping me safe.

The feelings in me are suddenly so strong and overwhelming that I can hardly breathe, that I can swear I felt my eyes prickle with tears…

That moment Potters pulls me closer against his chest and puts one of his legs around mine.

It helps, unbelievable, but it really does.

Harry's POV 

When I start waking up I instantly recall everything what happened last night and my eyes shot open wide and the same moment I am very much awake. I have my hands full of Draco Malfoy who is sleeping peacefully without moving a limb. I guess it is impossible to be physically closer to him than I am at the moment.

Was I really so drunk yesterday? Oh, the thing is I don't think I was, I could try to fool myself and excuse everything with drinking, but that would be very immature. I think the way I acted has nothing to do with champagne and everything to do with the way Malfoy is affecting me.

I know this is probably the time to consult Hermione, I know that it would be the right thing to do. But she hates Draco and Ron loathes him even more. I can't let the near him, I just can't. They will want to separate us, take him away. The thought of being away from Draco is unbearable. Even if he is a little monster who has killed, he is mine sweet, little monster, my irresistible drug.

No, I can't tell Hermione, she was the one who tried to trick me into that, that girl yesterday. Well, but it didn't mean anything. I came home yesterday and I showed Draco that he is the one who means everything, that he is the one I want to kiss, taste, hold and possess…

Damn, I have to put some distance between us. His presence is turning my brain into mush; I know that very well, I start having those thoughts and all the logic flies out of the window.

I still don't understand what is happening, but when he is around I can't bring myself to care.

I gently and carefully and unwillingly release him and slip out of the bed. I arrange the sheet around him; gather my clothes from the floor and leave.

When I bring him the breakfast, Draco is in shower. I try not to imagine the water running down his lean body, encircles his delicious pink nipples, runs down the cleft of his ass… little droplets trickling from blonde hair, his wet skin glistening in the morning sun,

I almost drop the tray and decide to leave, before I tear down the door to the en-suite and ravage him.

As I return downstairs I decide that I should get some fresh air, maybe it sounds weird, but in this house it's like I can smell him from wherever I am, even if he's occupying only one room. I certainly need to clear my head a bit.

I decide to go to the Diagon Alley and do some shopping. I am not sure what I need, well if I really need anything, but I guess I could always get a couple of new books for Draco.

I decide to floo to the Leaky Cauldron. The other option would be the Knight Bus, but that would take more time. My fireplace has been added to the floo-network only a couple of weeks ago and it is heavily warded. Basically it means that it has two-way connection only with The Burrow and Grimmauld Place. I can call whomever I want and go wherever I want, but I am inaccessible myself.

I stumble out of the fireplace as disgracefully as usually. I think I will never get used to some forms of wizarding transportation. I straighten up a bit, look around and nod at Tom who returns my greeting with a toothless grin.

Before tapping the bricks on the wall which is the entrance to the Diagon Alley, I cast a slight charm on myself, which means I will look approximately like me, but not completely, which will mean that only people who really know me personally will be able to recognize me. Very convenient and enough to ensure that I don't get mobbed. Turns out that offing a Dark Lord gives a wizard a magical boost. I can do a lot of spells more easily.

One look at The Diagon Alley makes me feel lighter and relieved. I remember how it was when Voldemort and the death eaters were at large. Most of the shops were closed, only few wizards and witches were seen walking around; everyone had been suspicious and scared. The atmosphere had been oppressing to put it mildly.

Now it was bubbling with life. When I see people on the streets like this, families shopping, enjoying themselves, he felt like I have done something worthwhile. Like all the awful things which had happened actually mattered, like there was a future.

First I go to the Gringotts, I am running out of galleons and then I am free to do some shopping.

My second stop is Flourish & Blotts. I want to buy something for Draco. I am not an expert of wizarding literature, so I just pick random novellas some of which are labelled as bestsellers. What truly amazes me is that they still sell Lockhart's masterpieces. Well, the wizarding world never stops surprising me.

I pay for my purchases and am about to leave when I bump into someone I am never happy to see.

"Potter, as graceful as usually," Snape sneers.

Every time I see him my arm is reaching for my wand. It is a reflex for me. I don't care much that the git is a hero now. I don't care that he was a spy for the light all along and killed Albus Dumbledore on headmaster's request. And it actually doesn't matter. The hate between us is personal. We dislike each other greatly and nothing could change that. He bullied me trying to get me back for something my father did. I am not going to feel guilty or responsible for that, I am not going to cower in front of him and ask to forgive me for something I haven't done. I am not my father. Maybe if he were a decent person I would feel sorry, but he isn't. He abused me worse than my father and Sirius abused him, since they were children, but he was an adult. We will never be on friendly terms with him, the vindictive bastard.

"Snape,"

Dry, I know.

It is all the greeting he is going to get. I am about to be on my way, but obviously he has other ideas, because he steps in front of me. I notice that he is still taller than me, but not by much, besides I am broader and stronger than the overgrown bat.

"Is there anything you need?"

I ask directly since I want to hurry the things up, I don't want to talk to him for longer than necessary.

"You really think that I might need anything from you…" he drawls. "There is just something I ask everyone who participated in the massacre at the end of the war."

There is a pause. Bah! Always the dramatics… I wish he just got on with it!

"What I am interested in is if you saw Draco Malfoy anywhere in proximity of the battle,"

That gets my attention and I make a mistake of looking in his eyes which I luckily realise and break the contact instantly.

"Why?" I ask. That probably is the second mistake, because I shouldn't be interested.

"Mr. Malfoy has been missing,"

"And why would I care?"

"I am not asking if you care, Mr. Potter. I am asking if you know something," he looks at me suspiciously through narrowed eyes as if I were some kind of bug he would like to dissect and use in one of those vile potions.

"No,"

I turn around and walk away. There is nothing he can do to stop me, he is not my professor anymore and he can't just demand answers and take house points or give me detentions if I displease him. Walking away from Snape feels great.

I am not in the mood for shopping anymore, so I just stop at Fortescue's and get a box of ice-cream. It frustrates me that I don't know what is Malfoy's favourite, so I get a box with selection of several different flavours.

After meeting Snape I want to get home as soon as I can, so I just go outside The Leaky Cauldron and apparate from a small bystreet when I am sure that there are no muggles around.

Snape is looking for Draco. I haven't thought about it. I didn't think anyone would care, except the aurors who would probably like to prosecute him, but didn't mind that he was out of the way – less trouble so to say. You can expect the Ministry to forget someone as long as they can pretend he doesn't exist. It was a trouble when Voldemort was still around, but now it's convenient.

But now Snape. He has always had some weird attachment to Draco and he is resourceful enough. Snape is dangerous. But I am too. I will not let him take Draco away. Besides he doesn't know anything.

I feel better as soon as I have returned to the house.

I bring Draco lunch and a large bowl with ice-cream and the books I bought. He is sitting in his regular place with a book and ignoring me, but in the same time I can feel how fixated on me he is. It is strange, but I think he's trying to ignore me so hard that the effect is exactly the opposite.

I am the only one here for him.

Draco is so beautiful. He is wearing a dark blue sweater and a pair of black slacks. I wish I knew what he is thinking about right now…

Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco… t

I leave the room. I am not sure what to do with him or myself. All of this is so confusing so hard.

I wish I could just forget all the hateful, cruel things he ever said, all the crimes he had committed and simply… simply… love him.

Damn it! Damn it! This can't be love! I can't love him. It's impossible! He is Draco bloody Malfoy, he is cruel, he is a murderer and a death eater and here I am sitting on the floor by his bedroom door and tearing my hair, because I can't live without him, because I think I love him, I need him, I crave him, I lie because of him, I could kill for him if I had to… the harder I am trying to remind myself who Draco really is, what kind of person he is, the worse it gets, the more I feel a desperate need to go to him and ask for forgiveness.

Now I am sitting on the floor, staring at the door and weeping like child, like a stupid, silly child because of him!

I push the door open; I crawl to the chair where he's sitting. I fall on my knees and burry my face in his lap still crying. I rub my cheek against his thigh.

"I love you," I know how wrong it is and I think I am shaking with violent sobs, but I have to repeat it to make sure that he heard me. "I love you," I sob against his thigh.

Then I feel a hand on my head, in my hair, running through it, petting me and it feels good. I put my arms around his waist and hug it. Draco's other hand is massaging the nape of my neck and I feel happy and sad at the same time. My feelings are so conflicting that for a moment I believe that my heart will burst with all the emotion. This is tearing me apart.

"Please don't leave me, never, please," I am begging as if he could leave if he wanted. But I am begging for him to want to stay.

He pushes me up from his lap and I think I almost whine aloud at the loss, at the horrifying thought that he is pushing me away, maybe I really do, because he says something in a quiet calming voice. Then Draco puts his arms around my shoulders and lets me hide my face in the crook of his neck. He lies me down on the fluffy carpet and holds me tightly in his arms while I am still crying, ruining his clothes most likely.

I want to ask him for forgiveness, I want to say that I am sorry that I am making him wet. But the gift of speech has left me.

But I know that I love him, I know I love him despite everything in spite of everything.

"Mine," I whisper on his ear. He has to know. I need him to know. "You are mine."

I put a hand on each side of his face and kiss him on the lips for the first time and it is heaven. I know why I hadn't done it before – because now when I have tasted his sweet lips, there is no way back. I know that he is the only one I want. I am his with my body, heart and soul.

I take him in my arms, lift him up and carry to the bed. He shouldn't be sleeping on the floor, he could catch cold. I lie him down and climb in next to him. I pull off his sweater and he obediently lifts his arms, then I take off his pants. Then I remember that I have magic and spell away my own clothes. He is watching me all the time. I smile at him. I lean down, give him one more kiss and then pull the duvet over us, put my arms around him and say 'Nox'.

I fall asleep listening to Draco's breathing and thinking of the way I could take us away from everything that makes it complicated. I don't need everyone else anyway if I have him and I think I do! And it makes me giddy with happiness. I just want to lie here holding him forever.

Snape's POV 

I know he is lying. The damn gryffindor Golden Boy was looking me straight in the eye and lying. Of course it is not the first time for him, he has had a lot of practice. He thinks that now he can get away with it, that he can laugh me in the face. Does he really think he is going to get away with anything? Does he think that I am the kind of person who lets anyone get away with anything?

I have dealt with brats like him for twenty years. Who does he think he is?

He was safe until now. I couldn't touch a hair on his head, because no matter how I loathed him, I needed the imbecilic simpleton as much as all the wizarding world. But now, when The-Boy-Who-Lived has served his purpose, I have no qualms about taking revenge. And if he has something to do with Draco's disappearance, I would enjoy it even more.

James Potter's progeny is not a bit smarter than the father was and has the same flaws. The ones I don't suffer from. Like complete lack of discipline, mental discipline as well. He is still a feeble occlumens. He didn't learn when he had a chance and now he is going to pay for it. Albus is dead, The Dark Lord is gone There is no one standing between me and Potter.

A moment was enough, it took one look in his eyes and I knew everything.

I could hardly contain myself when I saw in his mind. All I saw was blonde. There was blonde hair, silver blonde, a very uncommon shade. That could always be a coincidence, but I don't believe in coincidences.

I am going to hurt Potter.

Harry's POV 

When I bring Draco his breakfast he has already finished the shower and he has already dressed. I don't leave this time. I sit opposite him and eat my own breakfast. I notice that he likes his tea white and sweet. It gives me weird kind of satisfaction.

He is gorgeous. Sitting there, cutting his waffles in little, even pieces with a fork and a knife as if it was a sophisticated meal served in a fancy restaurant. Blonde, silky hair is falling on his face as Draco declines his head.

I know that I am staring, but I don't think he minds, I think he is aware that my eyes are on him only.

I think Draco has finished eating. He puts down the cutlery and looks at me. His eyes are questioning, insecure and there is something almost desperate on the bottom of those silver pools. They speak to me. He is trying to tell me something, he is asking for assurance. I reach out, cup his cheek with one of my hands, lean closer and kiss him thoroughly and when he responds I feel like I am loosing my mind. When we part, his cheeks are flushed. It's the most adorable sight I have ever seen.

I smile at him, letting him know how happy he makes me. I stand up and gather the empty plates and carry them down to the kitchen...

I have just put everything in the sink when I hear the firecall coming through; or rather feel, since the wards which are keyed to me work that way. It's like a tingling somewhere at the back of my mind. It can be only my friends, because I don't allow calls from anyone else. This is not the right time for their visit, because I want to go back to Draco… but I can't completely ignore them, it will only cause more complications later.

I drop the wards a bit and Hermione's head appears in the fireplace.

"Hi, Harry!"

Her greeting is even too cheerful. Almost suspiciously. But, hey, it's only Hermione. She tells me that Remus and Tonks are visiting and they all would like to come over and see me. My first thought is, no, no way, I don't want them here. Not now. I want to go back to Draco and make love to him.

However before I say something unreasonable I take several deep breaths hoping that Hermione doesn't notice anything strange.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with them wanting to visit me.

"Fine, I will lower the wards,"

A couple of minutes later Ron, Hermione, Remus and Tonks are sitting in my guest room and asking me what's new in my life. I just hate that question. They know very well, that nothing much had happened since I saw them a couple of weeks ago.

Remus looks a lot better than when I saw him the last time. His jacket is neater and hair had been trimmed recently. I think that Tonks is very good for him. Today her hair is dark red, which is almost a normal colour, at least I have seen it on other women, but still somehow makes her look weird.

I bring them tea and then return to the kitchen to fetch some cookies. Since Draco is living here I always have plenty of food at home, because it's not only me. I have to take good care of him.

I sit down again and listen to Tonks going on and on about some auror business. A couple of stray death eaters have been caught, they names are not familiar to me and I am done with all of it, but of course I can still listen… I sip my tea and try to shrug off the feeling that something is not quite alright. I know that I am too paranoid sometimes, but those are natural consequences of the war.

But when the room starts swimming around me and I hear Hermione calling my name, but can't quite answer her, I know that something is really terribly wrong.

Hermione's POV 

When Harry collapses on the couch I feel so terribly sorry, so guilty. But we are doing it for his own good.

When professor Snape talked to us I didn't believe him and Ron thought he 'had finally lost it'. Harry our Harry hiding Draco Malfoy in his house? Why would he? That was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.

Snape just stood there and gave me time to think and Ron time to fume. Then he asked are we ready to hear him out or not. My temperamental boyfriend still wasn't, but I had always known that professor Snape despite of his, err, eccentric and difficult character was a competent teacher and a serious wizard and if he said something one should listen, because he was not one for nonsense.

So, professor Snape told us that he red Harry's mind and even if he was not sure what exactly was happening he was sure of one thing – Draco Malfoy was currently residing in Harry's house. He pointed out that even if he personally couldn't care less if Potter was under any spell or potion for the rest of his useless life of course. That he just wanted to inform us that Harry was possibly asking for trouble, because Malfoy was wanted by the MOM and harbouring a criminal wouldn't do 'The Hero's' image any good.

Ron's face turned in a ugly shade of red and almost shouted that Snape was absolutely crazy, that he had no proof, besides he should go to Azkaban for breaking into Harry's mind without his permission.

"How dare you!" Ron spat. "You will never stop trying to accuse Harry of something."

I personally thought he was being very rude to our professor, even if former and was planning the way to give my boyfriend a good dressing down.

But then I started thinking. Harry was acting very strange, spending a lot of time in his house and I recently felt as if he didn't want us there. Truly, he didn't want us anywhere. Maybe it was not such nonsense; maybe there was a possibility that Snape had discovered something…

The professor glared/sneered at Ron, letting him know how little better than a flobberworm he was and left. He said there was no way Potter would let him in his house, which was true, so what to do with the information was up to us…

After professor Snape left The Burrow we were quiet for some time. Understandably though. We were both sitting there and trying to recall everything what had happened after the Last Battle. I was taking apart Harry's every move, word and action and everything was adding up. It was terrible, we realised that Harry had not been himself for ages. We had simply gone the easy way and dismissed those changes as something to do with Voldemort. I felt guilty.

Why didn't we do anything sooner? I mean we both noticed that something is not alright, that Harry is behaving differently.

Ron was the first to speak up: "He couldn't have put Harry under Imperio."

Yes, that was the only one which we could dismiss, since Harry had kind of immunity against that particular unforgivable. But the other possibilities were endless. There were several kinds of compulsion potions; probably Malfoy knew more of them than all of us together, since he had always been very good at potions. Then there were dark artefacts which could bind a wizard's will. Then there were runes which could do the same when drawn on the body. Malfoy was smart enough and he had access to all of those.

There was no way to tell what he had done to Harry to make our best friend to protect him. Could bee even a love potion, but I didn't mention that possibility to Ron – it would make him go ballistic. Still that would explain why Harry hadn't been interested in anyone lately.

It was bad, very bad.

So we decided to act. We needed a plan. There were a lot of things to consider. We could assume that if Malfoy was there he had some sort of power over Harry. Whatever it was, that meant he could become dangerous to himself and us if we threatened Malfoy or if he thought that we had discovered anything.

Then there was a chance that we were all wrong and there was no Draco Malfoy and professor Snape had a fevered imagination…

Of course it was not clear how Malfoy could put any spell on Harry, since he is magically very strong. But then he is also as reckless as a gryffindor can be and quite clueless sometimes and sometimes sheer strength can be defeated by cunning. I have always told Harry and Ron that they should pay more attention to their studies. But have they ever listened to the voice of reason?

After I explained everything to Tonks and Remus, they agreed to our plan. Remus was also upset, but he remarked that if professor Snape said anything, then there had to be a reason and most likely he was at least partially right and we had to do everything we could, to ensure that nothing bad happened to Harry.

However he firecalled the professor and flooed over to Snape's manor (I didn't know that he had one) to discuss some things. He returned with a slytherin scarf which had belonged to Malfoy according to Snape. I wonder how and why he had it, but that was not important right now, Remus needed to know Malfoy's scent to see if he could smell him somewhere around Harry. Remus also had a vial with transparent liquid which according to professor was a strong sedative. Without any smell or taste. Why didn't they make polyjuice that way? I am still getting queasy remembering the foul concoction.

Meanwhile Tonks had contacted some reliable aurors – mostly the ones who were order members as well. They would not ask questions and get the job done. Exactly what we needed. We didn't want anyone to know about this before we found out what exactly was happening.

Before I firecalled Harry we stood there for a bit, trying to pull ourselves together. Then I took a deep breath and tossed the floo-powder in the fire-place.

We went over to Godric's Hollow.

Now I could see how strange Harry looks, his eyes were glassy; he looked nervous and obviously didn't want to let us into the house. But there was no good reason for him not to receive us, so he gave in.

We all hugged him. Harry went to get us tee from the kitchen.

Remus looked at me and nodded. That is the sign; it meant he was able to smell Draco Malfoy on Harry. Harry returns with tea and says that he has some very nice cookies too. It was the opportunity I was waiting for to slip the potion in Harry's tea. I mentally asked him for forgiveness and tried to remember that I was doing this for his own good.

It was not that long after Harry fell asleep on the sofa. Apparently Snape's potion was as strong as it could get.

I stayed with Harry. Ron, Remus and Tonks searched the house and pretty soon Remus confirmed that Draco Malfoy was indeed there.

After that everything happened very fast. I, Ron and Remus took Harry to Snt. Mungo's. Tonks remained in the house to let in the auror team.

While healers were examining Harry we waited and Tonks came to tell us what else had happened.

It turned out that it took quite some time to break through the wards which Harry had put on Malfoy's room. Then she returned to the Ministry to tie up some loose ends.

Besides the wards there is one more thing I don't understand. Apparently Malfoy didn't have a wand on him. But there was the Dark Mark on his forearm. He was taken to the Ministry to hold him there until his trial. But whatever. He is not the one I am worried about at the moment. What matters right now is that Harry is there in the room and there must be something wrong with him. I just hope that the healers will be able to help him.

When one of the healers finally comes out of the room she says that they can't find any traces of spells or potions on Harry, no hostile magic or runes. I can't believe it, I ask if she is sure, because there just must be something! The healer presses her lips together and then she says that there is. There is something what could have made our friend act strange. I don't like the look she is giving us. It can't possibly be anything good.

And it isn't. It isn't… I have seen a lot since I found out about the wizarding world, but it appears that it will never stop surprising me.

Draco's POV 

I never expected this. I had already accepted my life as it was. The attic room, the books and Potter who was so strange and confusing, whom I thought I hated, but then… then I started admitting that maybe I… when the door opened and unfamiliar witches and wizards barged in my room with their wands pointed at me I almost shouted for help and for Harry.

But I seriously doubted that it would do me any good, so I let them to do with me what they wanted. I didn't put up any fight as my hands were tied. Not because this was something I wanted, not because I was obviously being taken away from Potter. I just knew how to pick my fights.

The aurors dragged me to the Ministry and threw me in the cell. I didn't protest, I didn't demand anything, I just waited. It was not Azkaban yet. I knew it, because we flooed there. One cannot floo into Azkaban.

I suspect that I was being held at the Ministry. I was not sure what it meant for me. The possibilities were endless. They could just take me to the real prison any time now. Or they could come and kill me, to keep things simple. There was no way to tell. Maybe even give me a fair trial. Yeah, right…

However I was surprised when later that evening I was introduced to my defender. That was the last thing I had expected. Alf Smuges was wearing dark grey robes and a bow tie. He was older than me, but younger than my father. He was attractive in a very ordinary fashion, but there was not anything particular about his features. Anyway, I couldn't care less about the wizard's appearance. My life was at stake and that didn't inspire pettiness. Especially after he informed me that he had been hired by Severus Snape.

So Severus is alive and free. I had always suspected that he had something up his sleeve. So obviously that was something big, since he can help me now.

"How? Why?" I asked. How did he know? Smuges simply shrugged and commented that since Severus knew that I would be arrested, the Ministry didn't have a chance to overlook my rights and ship me straight to the prison or do something worse.

Severus. I grin like a fool when I think about my godfather, head of the house and potions professor. He has always been there for me. I am grateful beyond words.

Smuges questions me and I answer as truthfully as I can. Defenders are bound to keep their client's secrets after all. I am very forthcoming until he asks me about Harry Potter.

I guess it makes me to snap out of it. I do the perfect pureblooded Malfoy impression and make it clear that I haven't done anything criminal against the Saviour of the wizarding world and it is against my best interest to reveal any details about the time between the Last Battle and today. He looks at me strangely and inquires if it's possible that Potter has done something criminal against my person.

I am quiet. I sit there just looking at him with a blank expression on my face. It works like a magic. He fills the silence and explains that the fact that I had spent the last couple of months with Harry Potter is not known to the general public. Not even Ministry. Someone has done very good work ensuring that everything stays under wraps. Master Snape knows about it from a personal source.

"Well, then," I try to sound and look as commanding as I can. father's training can be good for something. "Get me out of here first and then we will discuss Harry Potter."

He nods as if we both are partners in some kind of conspiracy. I don't know what he wants, but I refuse to think about it for now. First things first.

I just want to be alone; I am relieved when my defender leaves. I think I have lost my touch. It is very hard to act as a proper Malfoy after everything I have been through. I feel like I am a plant who has been pulled out of its pot and dropped into unfriendly soil, forced to take root anew. Besides it has happened too many times already and I can't see it stopping. My fate is playing with me.

Besides there are so many thought floating in my head, but I can't catch one and hold onto it, they don't make any sense.

They bring me food, well, no one actually gives it to me - it just pops up on a tray next to my cot. Probably it's a house elf. I think they are trying to torture me. The mash potatoes are cold, peas yellowish and lamb sausages look like they had been starving. They had forgotten gravy, probably worried that the salty stuff could somehow conceal the awful taste of everything else and make it bearable. It is no surprise that the tea is cold, but I am thirsty and don't care.

Funny, but Potter has spoiled me again. I guess it's true that it is easy to get used to good things. I wonder if it's possible that he cooked all of the food I ate himself? I must admit that I am in a bit of awe. It's hard to imagine. S far as I am concerned the meals come from house elves. How they are put together and what precisely they consist of. I have never seen anyone cooking. It was not necessary. But Potter is pretty much muggle and muggles don't have houselves, even some wizards and witches cook for themselves.

It's very exciting. Potter cooking. Creating nice food from a scratch.

But when I think about him, I am worried. I can't help, but wonder where Potter is, what has happened to him. What will they do to him for hiding me? Or for kidnapping me. But they don't know… then it would be the first time when a secret would stay a secret in the wizarding world. What if they find out?

It's long until I can finally fall asleep and I have no idea what the time is when I wake up since there are no windows in my cell. The only thought that somewhat comforts me is that my trial will be held very soon and one way or another it will be over before long.

I am really unsure how much time passes until they come for me. A couple of days at least. My defender visits me one more time. He assures me that everything is going smoothly and he is doing everything he can to ensure that there are no unpleasant surprises.

It must be the same in Azkaban. Probably it is what actually drives people mad. For some reason it is important to know what day is it, if it's morning, afternoon or midnight. Here, in the cell with no windows I have no idea what time of the day it is and it is driving me mad.

And then finally the aurors come and announce that this is the day of my trial and I am to face the Wizengamot. I can see from his faces how much they are enjoying their task, taking a part in bringing down Draco Malfoy. Son of Lucius Malfoy. I am an infamous dark wizard after all, it almost makes me laugh, but I am not going to since I don't want them telling the Prophet that I am insane as well. I have some dignity left. At least in public. I even glare at them.

I allow the aurors to push and jostle me wherever they want.

As we enter the hall I see that the trial has been made very public. Should I be pleased that so many are considering me important enough to waste their time listening to my gruesome confessions?

My heart skips a beat when I think that maybe they are here because they know what had happened between me and Potter. But, no, I don't think so, Smuges has assured me that my secrets are safe and they will stay that way until I decide to do something about it. As far as they all know, I have nothing to do with their hero. Father would be proud if he knew that the Malfoys are still prominent enough to attract the masses. Or mobs.

However most of them are going to be disappointed. Alf Smuges has ensured that the trial will be as painless as possible. He had used all the possible clauses and stipulations and the prosecutor is on a very short leash now. Scratch that – prosecutors. There are two of them. I am a really important person apparently. But they have a list of questions which they are allowed to ask me under the influence of veritaserum to ensure that they don't pry into my personal life which have nothing to do with my crimes. I am officially the head of the Malfoy house and some matters are also considered to be personal business of my house.

I could have refused to take the potion after all.

I am sat down in a chair which is large enough for one more me and chains which are unnecessary heavy as well magically wrap themselves around me tying me in the seat. As if I could really harm anyone without my wand. I can't turn around to look around the room since I am chained, but I somehow doubt that Potter is there, I think I knew if he was.

The thing is that they don't really have many witnesses to testify about anything besides the Hogwarts incident. I am not even sure, who has testified before me, since I haven't been present. Ministry claims that if the offender is present, the witnesses might be intimidated and withhold the information. They are not required to take the veritaserum if they don't agree unless something they testify is in conflict with culprit's testimony. I still know that there is no one who has seen me since the end of my sixth year. I am wondering has anyone tried to pin something on me.

The moment of the truth has come. I think that maybe I should refuse to take the truth potion and let them convict me. That would be a very Malfoy-ish thing to do. To preserve my pride. But maybe I am not Malfoy enough or I am too much of a slytherin. I have the instinct of self-preservation in abundance, I am afraid of Azkaban, I am afraid of cold and of being alone. I know that I am weak. I am a coward, but I want to live no mater what.

I will tell the truth.

I am asked to stick out my tongue and four drops of the vile potion falls on my tongue. The Ministry is overdoing it. Considering my weight it is about twice as much as I need, so I will probably tell them everything they want in great detail.

But there is nothing I can do about it and as often in my life I decide to go along with it.

The prosecutor stands up. His black robes swipe the floor, the hem is getting dusty. I have no intention to look the wizard in the eye. I know that it will make me more open to his questions when I am overdosed with veritaserum. The prosecutor knows it and demands that I look him in the eye. Smuges protests and one of the elders, Griselda Marchbanks I think, accepts the protest. I am allowed to look wherever I want. Still I feel so vulnerable and exposed.

I smirk, but the questions start. They ask me if I am a death eater, if I took the mark. My answer is positive. Then they ask me about Hogwarts. It's not fun, because I really don't like remembering any of that.

They ask me if I set up the vanishing cabinet. I did. That was maybe the only noteworthy thing I have done. They ask me if I let the death eaters in the Hogwarts. Yes. Then they ask me if I put Madame Rosmerta under Imperius. There it starts. My shameful confession. No, I didn't. They ask me why. Because I couldn't. They ask me who did it. I don't know who, but it was a death eater.

I think I could hear a feather fall in the courtroom, that's how silent everyone is as one after another I admit to my crimes or rather lack of crimes. When they ask me how many wizards, witches and muggles I have tortured I can't tell. I can't tell, because I haven't. I can hear gasps and murmuring of the crowd. I guess it's not what they have expected.

When the prosecutor asks me, how I served You-Know-Who, I answer that I let the death eaters in the Hogwarts and I was making him potions.

The atmosphere is very strange. I understand, everyone is confused. My cheeks are burning red, now everyone knows what a coward I am, how weak I actually am. I am glad that I am sitting with my back turned to everyone except the Wizengamot.

They ask me if I were fighting at the final battle and I have to admit that I tried, but luckily was hit with some pretty strong spells before I could raise my wand and didn't have to. I say 'luckily', I let them know that I was relieved that I didn't have to fight.

What can be more humiliating than that? The truth is that The Dark Lord simply threw me out there with other death eaters, to prove my worth or die. He had kept me alive only because my skill in potions, he didn't want to simply leave me behind so why not to take me to the battlefield with everyone else even if there was no point in doing that, because I was not really good for anything.

Then the prosecutor obviously gets desperate. He asks if I hate muggles. Smuges ptotests, but it is too late.

"I am not sure," is my answer. One of the elders is obviously curious and asks, why. Well it is obviously very simple in my mind. I don't know much about them, I haven't met any. The next question is how I feel about muggleborns. I admit that I think they are annoying, because they are ignorant. Then they ask me if I have ever considered harming any muggleborns. My answer is positive. Once or twice in my life I have considering harming almost everyone I have met, but the question is stupid. What does it matter if I have ever wanted to throw an éclair in Pansy Parkinson's face or trip a gryffindor or two in the halls.

I guess I am getting tired and annoyed and things start simply slipping off my tongue. I am babbling. The last question from the prosecutor is if I have ever wanted to kill anyone. I am absolutely truthful: "One time a mosquito somehow managed to get in my room. It bit me, my skin is very fair, there was a red blotch on my cheek. I really wanted to kill it, but couldn't find it anymore."

After that shameful admission I glance at the members of Wizengamot, they are ancient, and irritated. Griselda Marchbanks asks the prosecutor if they have anything else to ask, anything important, she specifies. Apparently not.

Then it's time for Randolph Smuges, my defender to ask his questions which are designed to show what a poor victim of circumstances I am. So I tell everyone who listens that I didn't see any choice but to join the death eaters, because The Dark Lord threatened to kill my parents and me. It is true after all. I hoped that he would spare my mother, but he didn't of course. But I would have done it again, because I had to take the risk, I couldn't just let him kill my mother.

When Smuges asks me if I wanted to join the death eaters and fight for the Dark Lord's cause, I say I didn't. I think he gets carried away and asks what I wanted instead. I say that I just wanted to be let alone, to go home with my family, to finish the school and become a famous quidditch player or potions master.

I want to throttle him. But now anyone knows that I am not really capable of that. I am a failure of a death eater.

When I am asked why I reminded with The Dark Lord I tell them that I didn't have a choice. I was locked up. He asks if I ever thought that I could gain anything by serving You-Know-Who. I tell them that I hoped that he will not kill my mother so soon and she will have time to get away and hide. He asks if I thought that my own life would be spared if I became a death eater.

"Maybe before I took the mark, but after that I was sure that sooner or later he will find a reason to get rid of me. I think he was crazy like that and I really was not very useful."

In the end everything is very clear. As much as the wizarding world hates me as last living Malfoy and someone who painfully reminds them of Lucius, especially with that long hair I have right now, they can't lock me up. I am not going to adorn Azkaban. My birthday is on the fifth of June, if I had let the Death Eaters in the Hogwarts a couple of days later, I would be serving a term in the Azkaban. But In the time when I committed my crimes I was a minor and obviously I was coerced, so I can't be held as responsible as under other circumstances. Besides he pointed out that I don't pose any danger to community, which makes me scream and probably several generations of Malfoys are also yelling at me from their graves. A Malfoy who is not a danger to community. Once again I am reminded what a failure I am, how disappointed and ashamed my father would be if he was still alive.

I will have to pay retributions to those who had suffered that night at Hogwarts and an impressive sum to the Ministry elimination of consequences of the war and if I commit any crime against the wizarding world during next ten years then I go to the prison for what happened year and a half ago. I will be on probation. And that's it. As I listen to them I almost start believing that I am just another victim of the war.

In no time the bindings on the chair fall off and I am standing up, desperately hoping not to loose my balance, as if I have any pride left to loose. I could as well literally fall on my face after everything. Wouldn't make much difference.

I look at the crowd of witches and wizards who all have been watching the trial. I am not sure how to proceed; they are all staring at me. I am really supposed to elbow my way through all of them?

No, I don't have to. My defender comes to my aid and Severus is at my other side where others say he is intimidating for me his significant presence had always been reassuring. I want to smile at him, but my lips are not obeying. I will thank him later for saving me.

They lead me through the crowd and there are aurors who stand between us and the reporters who are shouting questions at me. It appears that no Dark Lord can take out Rita Skeeter, if there was one who would promise to rid the wizarding world of scum instead of mudbloods I would gladly follow him.

Smuges says that we are heading to a fireplace somewhere so we can floo out of the Ministry building instead of causing more trouble by trying to use the main entrance.

"Malfoy, professor Snape! Wait!"

Someone shouts after us. I know the voice, so I spun around. It's Granger and Weasley trailing behind him like her little toy-dog. Only he is not little, he is taller than all of us, even Snape. Now I feel inferior to a Weasley, I really want to go home. Only where is my home now? I have a thought, but…

"We are in a hurry miss Granger," Snape sneers as only he can.

"Please, Malfoy, we need to talk to you," looks like the only one who wants to talk is Granger, because the weasel looks like he's just swallowed one of Severus' potions.

"It's about Harry,"

The little vixen knows how to get lad's attention.

"Mr. Malfoy doesn't want anything to do with Potter," Severus answers for me and puts a hand around my shoulders to pull me away.

"Please, Draco, you must forgive Harry! He didn't know what he was doing! He feels terrible, at the moment he is in St Mungo's and… and… Harry is a veela; he thinks you are his mate…"

"Miss Granger," Snape looks at Granger as if she were nothing more than a slug or something less worth his attention. "Potter kidnapped my godson and did who knows what to him. What makes you think that we care if his ancestors have been dallying with magical creatures? Excuse us."

I am too shocked to say anything and my defender and Severus are leading me away already. She has thrown quite stunner at me. I can't believe it. Potter is a veela? I am blond and charming, but in the end Potter is a veela. It's priceless in a way and tragic in other.

Veela? Mate? Potter? Holy, fucking… it sounds so…

Suddenly I realize what just happened. They were begging me. Potter's pet mudblood was just begging me. I have power. I have power over Potter; I can drag him to the court. I have power over Granger and Weasley. I could make them fall on their knees and beg me to spare their poor, misguided friend, I think they would. I have power to destroy and humiliate Potter, to hurt him like no one could.

It is somewhat intoxicating, the notion that it's all in my hands, that Potter is in my hands and I can crush him. The same way he held me.

'He is a veela; he thinks you are his mate…' Granger's voice keeps shouting after me.

It's too much. This everything is way too much.

I suddenly feel so weak. I would be lying on the floor, but Severus catches me, his arm around my waist.

"My poor, child," he whispers somewhere near to my ear. "Don't worry, Draco; everything is going to be alright, Potter will not get to you, we are going to be home soon."

Home? Where is my home now? Potter will not get to me? Isn't just a little too late. He had already gotten to me.

Hermione's POV 

It was awful. They had put Harry under restraints. His forehead, neck, chest, waist, hips, both legs and arms, everything he could move was safely strapped to the hospital bed. It hurt me when I looked at him. They said that there was no chance to predict what a veela would do when one would realize that they had been separated from their mate.

They called him veela. I was angry at first, I wanted to shout at them that he was not a veela, that he was Harry Potter, but I was distraught, I knew, I was too upset, irrational and ready to bite everyone's head off whom I suspected of wishing him ill. I knew they didn't mean any offence.

Besides I realized that the healers were right. When Harry woke up he realized what had happened. He called for Draco, not just called; he whined in an inhuman voice and didn't want to recognize us. His fingernails started to grow till they turned into talons and I was grateful that he couldn't move his hands and claw his way out of St. Mungo's to get to Draco Malfoy. His emerald blue eyes were lighter and brighter than before, practically gleaming, but unseeing. I was so scared. Scared for him and I must admit – scared of him.

Then the healers rushed in the room and threw us out.

I didn't know what was going to happen to Harry, none of the things I had ever red about veelas seemed helpful. Harry's appearance, family relations – nothing explained what had happened.

When the healer called us in her office I was scared. I told her that I had no idea that there was any veela blood in Harry, how could he be one of them? She didn't answer me, but inquired if Harry had experienced a magical boost recently and hinted at the fact that he had killed a dark lord not long ago.

I just nodded, that was a fact. Harry's magic had become stronger.

The healer Marigold who was in charge of Harry's treatment was also confused. She admitted that nothing similar had happened during her practice. However there were recorded cases of delayed coming into magical inheritance. She explained that the magical genes sometimes were not working like the regular ones. Like when a wizard has a child with a half-veela it's not always a quarter-veela, certain amount of magic is needed to support the veela traits in a wizard and certain type of magic – wild one. It was all just a theory, because no one could tell for sure, she added, but the only explanation she could offer. And the result was the same. That little bit of veela that could probably be found in Harry's blood had decided to manifest itself, because something about his magic had changed. And taken over.

Ron asked if Harry was a veela, then why wasn't everyone drooling on him. I rolled my eyes and explained that apparently Harry was still as much wizard as a veela, not a pure veela, then he was a male and it was not like people weren't attracted to him.

"But what can we do now?" Ron sounded as desperate as I felt.

She said that we didn't have to do anything, we just had to get Harry's mate here and he would calm down instantly without any potions.

I had to tell her that it was not possible.

She sighed. It was a very tired and not a good sigh.

I clenched Ron's hand in mine and asked if Harry was going to die without his mate.

She chuckled. She said that it was just a myth. Harry was not going to die. It was an exaggeration. She just didn't like to treat veelas who were abandoned by their mates if there was another way; they didn't make a pretty sight. I could only agree. Our best friend was lying there and 'pretty' was not what I thought when I saw him.

She informed us that there was a way to treat him. The main problem was going to be the depression, which was dangerous since if the patient was not going to die, there was a great chance that he didn't see a reason to live and… She didn't finish the sentence, but I understood what she meant.

So Harry would have to take a lot of potions. To calm him down and ensure that he was not violent and could function. I could hear a 'but'; there was certainly a 'but'. I was right; I usually liked to be right, but not this time. She explained that it was impossible to completely eliminate the pull a veela felt towards their mate so if the person in question didn't want to accept the veela as their partner, then it was better to keep them apart and very often the veela couldn't accept another mate. That depended on the strength of the created bond.

But there was still a chance that he would fall for someone else after some time. There were no guaranties though. Or not. That didn't sound too assuring.

The reality is that Harry will live, but what kind of life is it going to be? Most likely without love, in solitude. I am sorry, so sorry…

I can't help, but wonder why he chose Malfoy of all the people. He always had this fixation on him, especially during our sixth year when he suspected that Malfoy was up to something and he was in trouble. Was there something more than rivalry there even then?

Ron is faring worse than me. His dislike for anything with name 'Malfoy' is legendary for a reason. He starts some kind of rant about how he still thinks that Draco did something to Harry and he can't believe that Harry has chosen Malfoy from all the people and so on till I almost slap him, but I can control my temper better than that, so I just yell at him that it is not Harry's fault and if he can't grow up and be there for his best friend when he needs us the most, then he can go and leave me here alone. Luckily that makes a difference.

"Harry didn't choose it, Ron," I tell him. "He wouldn't choose it."

Ron hugs me and says that he is sorry, that he didn't mean it. He is also worried and Malfoy could use this to hurt Harry.

I realise that he really could and that we have one more thing to worry about. Harry kidnapped Malfoy, held him captive against his will. It is a crime. He can go to Azkaban.

I thought that it was over when Voldemort was defeated, but it's never over for Harry Potter. I finally break down and cry. I wished so many good things for him…

Draco's POV 

Severus took me to his house. Not the Spinner's End which he had inherited from his muggle father. Urgh… That one he got rid of. It was the house where his mother was living with his father after she was thrown out of Prince's manor. Now, when everything is over and his grandparents are dead leaving him as the sole heir, my godfather had returned there.

Yes, I know. Severus was a spy. Should I feel betrayed or cheated? Well, I don't. I can't blame him. Maybe I am a bit sullen that he didn't tell me, but that's it. I didn't want to be a Death Eater myself. But now many more things about him make sense. Some of his cryptic remarks, some things he did.

It's al for good, he has helped me a lot after all and even with my parents gone I still have some family left. I mean I have some blood relatives, but I am not going to let them even come near me. I have heard too much about them from my parents.

I stretch my limbs and yawn when I wake up. I am so wonderfully relaxed. I don't remember how I got to this room or the bed clearly, but I know that it's over. Finally it is over for me. I am free.

My bed is large and old fashioned with a canopy made of heavy, dark green velvet and a heap of embroidered cushions. There is a step so one can comfortably get out of the enormous piece of furniture which is quite high. Nothing I am not used to. The pyjamas are silk again, but I guess everyone is expecting a fondness for silk of a Malfoy. The room is huge; the ceiling is high with some kind of floral adornments on it (nothing ghastly of course), the wallpaper expensive, the cherry wood furniture antique, a bit ponderous though. Not that different from my manor. It's a paragon of pure bloods house.

There is a string on my side and when I pull it the house elf arrives and announces that Crumpet will be happy to serve the young master. All this predictability calms me so much that I grin like an idiot.

I tell Crumpet that I will take a bath and groom myself and she can let her master know that I am awake.

I look in the mirror before I join Severus. I look fine, really good. My hair is long, but not as long as father's; it only reaches my shoulders, soft and shiny. Not that Sevrus would care for my looks… I must admit that Potter took good care of me, at least fed me well and I look much better now than when I had just left the Dark Lord. The clothes I found in the wardrobe fit me almost perfectly. It is obvious who bought them. The shirt is dark green and the sleeveless robe over it is black, there are no pants. Very proper for a wizard even if a bit too formal, but that's Severus for you. He is not Potter and obviously one of those old fashioned wizards who can't see why someone would wear anything as uncomfortable as trousers out of the quidditch pitch.

The house elf walks me to the dining room. I wonder how it manages no to trip over those big foot. I remember something Pansy said about men with big feet and big… yuck! I just didn't think about house elf's… Eww, trust Parkinson to gross me out even without being present. She and Blaise – they are very sick people. Talking about all kind of disgusting things and teasing me about being too innocent. Not everyone is a pervert in the Slytherin, but because of people like them our house has that disrepute. I wonder where they both are now.

I am admiring Severus's house. It is grand. It is obvious that Princes were rich and now Snape is rich. I am certainly going to get acquainted with the portraits who are watching me with suspicion as I walk through the halls. Who knows what interesting things they can tell about Severus and the family.

When I enter the dining room, I see Severus waiting for me already.

"You missed the breakfast,"

Severus informs me and I know that he is not really reprimanding me, so I smile and reply him that obviously I am on time for lunch.

We eat and don't talk much which is good. Words are not always necessary, every slytherin knows that. Besides there are things I don't want to discuss. There are things I don't even want to think about. I want to relax a bit.

Severus also says that he has things to do and he tactfully suggests that I should get a plenty of rest, get acquainted with the house, take a walk garden or do whatever I please. Before billowing out of the room he summons a house elf who hands him a box made of smooth, polished wood. Severus puts the box on the dinning table in front of me.

"I found it after the battle," he states dispassionately.

I think I know what it is, my heart beats faster, I am so excited. I lift the lid and there it's laying in a bed of black velvet – ten inches, hawthorn, a core of unicorn's hair. It's my wand. I take it in my hand, lift up and wave a bit, and still get the sparks like the first time. My wand doesn't care what I have or haven't done, it still wants me. I look around to give Severus my thanks, but he has left already, which is typical, I guess. Apparently he wouldn't want me to hug him.

I feel so good with a wand in my pocket, like I have been born from anew, the helplessness is gone. I am a different person with my wand, I am a wizard. I can do whatever I want now. I have my wand, The Dark Lord is gone, I am at home with my godfather. Life is good.

So I do as Severus suggested, I walk around the house, it's not like there is anything special to see, at least nothing surprising. The library is a bit gloomy like the rest of the house, but there are hundreds of books and I can bet that at least half of them are potions' texts, so I promise myself to return there. Snapes' portraits don't mind me, they are only a bit curious, but as I inform them that I am a Malfoy, they welcome me in the house I manage to locate the tapestry with Severus' family tree. Surprisingly we are not related, because his family comes from somewhere in Italy and have been living in the Britain only for about five hundred years. There comes the Roman nose I guess.

Right however I am more interested in the garden's, doesn't matter that it's not warm anymore, I just cal the house elf and order him or her, well it's not that easy to tell and I don't want to offend it by asking, which is strange, to get me an outer robe.

I haven't been properly outside for some time. For a long time since the battle and that could hardly be considered a walk to get some fresh air, since I was scared shitless and knocked out pretty soon. And before that I was confined to the Dark Lord's dungeons, making potions for him and his army. I must thank Severus for teaching me so good and that I was useful for the Dark Lord and he didn't kill me straight away after realizing that I couldn't be proper death eater, because I didn't stomach killing. I still remember the _cruciatus_ though. I am grateful for being cursed with that instead of the killing curse.

But I try not to think about sad things as I explore the gardens. It's a good idea not to get too lost in thoughts while browsing a wizards garden, I will be very embarrassed if Severus will have to rescue me from clutches of some homicidal plant on the first day of my visit. There is a very practical reason why they are teaching us herbology at Hogwarts. It makes me wonder if Longbottom survived the war. Wouldn't be a great loss I guess, the little imbecile… or it would. He probably has a family, equally imbecilic gryffindork friends and a greenhouse somewhere. Probably would be a grater loss than me. Who would truly miss me? Severus, probably, I guess he has a soft spot for e if he is bothering. Potter. Potter would probably miss me, he said he loved me… but he was not quite himself, right?

I cast _vingardium_ _leviousa _on a couple of white pebbles and make some flowers bloom just to get reacquainted with my wand. Doing magic feels good indeed.

I start getting tired; I am not used to physical exercises after all, so I decide to take a nap.

I enjoy my time in Severus' manor. I walk in the garden, read books from the library, I have meals with Severus and we play chess after the dinner.

Still, I am getting restless, I think I should do something more meaningful, maybe go and take a look at the manor, the Malfoy Manor, maybe set up my own potions lab somewhere – Severus doesn't let me in his private laboratory unattended which is ridiculous of course. I help him brewing when he is making potions. He says that I am the most competent assistant he has ever had. No surprise when my life depended on being good at brewing for almost a year. But I guess I would like to make my own stuff, mess around with ingredients a bit, invent something, not only chop and grind for Snape.

Nonetheless Severus has been good to me. But he always had been. Severus is like a father to me he had always helped with whatever I needed. I was so proud when I realized that I could make the head of my house soft like butter with one smile. He would punish Potter even if he looked at me the wrong way or anyone else in Slytherin – even if not in public. His support made me powerful in our house. I was so childishly full with myself back then, because the most important person in the school (for slytherins) indulged me.

I am so grateful for everything he has done for me. He was the one who got me out of the Azkaban after all. I wish I could repay him somehow. I am a slytherin and we slytherins are not supposed to help anyone just because, there is always a debt and the debt has to be paid. But Severus is not just a slytherin. He is my family.

The stay in Princes' Manor is exactly what I need at the moment. I haven't left it since I was brought here after my trial. I red everything about it in The Daily Prophet. My trial was covered in detail. Only adding some veiled insinuations that once again a Malfoy had managed to escape the justice, a Death Eater had gotten away with milder punishment than one deserves and so on. I know why they hate me. It is really simple – they the me because of father and power the Maloy family has always had. Maybe not anymore, but wizards have good memories. And there I am - still rich and good looking, that's enough to make some people envious. They would like to see me fall. I didn't fall as low as they wanted to see me falling and they are upset.

I was the big news for a week after I was captured or so. But not the biggest. There is only one person they never stop writing about. Harry Potter. Even if the pictures they have are mostly old, they keep reposting them. The things they write are just outrageous rumours. Like Potter running for the post of Minister, joining Puddlemere United as a seeker, Potter had bought a small island, several witches claiming that Potter has gotten them pregnant – well, the usual doxy-shit. No one really believes it, they just like reading about it. Everyone wants a peace of The Hero these days.

Then there is something I don't like looking at. Potter at the ball, dancing with some blonde tart, Sandrine Scrimgeour. They look like the prince charming and his princess. She looks completely smitten, but I think that Potter is not really enjoying himself. Good. They are quoting on of tart's friends who 'has confirmed that 'Miss Scrimgeour is very impressed with Mr. Potter.' Of course she does as the rest of the wizarding world. Poor unsuspecting Potter is the most eligible bachelor at the moment. He is not only rich, but famous and good looking too. If he only wanted then he could took over Scrimgeour's post any day. I don't think that Potter would ever want anything like that though.

A pure-blood wife who would push him about and spend his money would be perfect for someone with so little ambition. Sandrine would fit that role perfect.

I snort at the thought and Severus raises a brow at me. But well, I have a reason to snort. Potter doesn't even like girls. But I guess no one really knows that, except me and his friends. I wonder who did what to keep this whole affair from the papers. I put my galleons on Granger. Everyone thinks that their Hero is still mourning Weasel's sister. Ha!

Well, I guess it shouldn't concern me at all.

Potter, he, well he… it is strange. I should hate him. I am supposed to hate him. I am supposed to be plotting my revenge at the moment. But I am not. I just don't feel inclined. I am just trying not to think about him. Which is not working.

I guess it's sick. But I can't simply forget what happened, the things he said… my mind is replying those scenes over and over again and there is nothing I can do. Every night I promise myself that I will wake up in the morning and something would be different, but it's always the same.

I don't want to admit that I am miserable. I am not going to. And I am not, not really. I am basking in luxury, doing what I want, kind of… fuck, it's so confusing.

Snape's manor is safe and peaceful enough, but I still feel like I am missing something, something very important. There is something terribly dull about my existence, like my life is missing colours. I am trying to fill my life with things. Like reading and walking in Severus' garden, but it's not helping.

One day I notice that Severus is watching me. I guess it is not the first time, he has always been watching me if I think about it. I look up from my book and smile at him tentatively from under the curtain of my white-blonde hair. His lips quirk, that means he is returning my smile. It is so reassuring.

I should have known that good things can't last forever. That sooner or later something is bound to happen and turn my life upside down.

My godfather is the one who breaks the peace and I should beat myself up for not expecting it and not being prepared. One day after the dinner he looks at me seriously. He is so severe. No pun intended. I haven't seen him for long and there is something very cold in his gaze. It makes me uncomfortable. Even fearful. Then he reaches out and brushes aside a wayward strand of hair and hooks it behind my ear.

"So, Draco," Severus starts. "What are we going to do about Potter?"

Ron's POV 

Hermione says that Harry is doing fine. Fine? Comparing to what? To who? To those who are dead or insane like Lockhart? Of course the comparison is crude and I am not about to say it aloud, since I have no wish to sleep on the couch or rather in my old room, alone. But I have a point! Harry is out of St. Mungo's, he can take care of himself, but the way my best mate is going about his life - I just can't look at it.

We are checking on him every day and he obviously hates it even if he hasn't said anything. But after everything… it is his own fault. Harry was keeping so much from us. He mentioned that he thought his magic was stronger after killing You-Know-Who, oh, yeah, he said that his magic **might **be a bit stronger. A bit sounds like a little tiny bit, but then we find out that he hasn't used a wand since forever! And that is how the veela thing comes into picture. If he had been more open about everything we had made him to go to St. Mungo's straight away and maybe there was something we could have done to prevent the whole mess.

Maybe we could have stopped him before he got so obsessed with Malfoy from all the people. Malfoy! From all the witches and wizards in Britain! Hermione says it's not Harry's fault. I know that it's not completely true. I also red all of those books she bought to read more about 'Harry's condition' as Hermione calls it.

The fact that he went crazy might not be his fault, but there is nothing inevitable about the fact that he is set on Draco Bloody Malfoy. It turns out that veelas fall in love the same way as the other people, they get to know the other person and so on and then when they have fallen in love they go a bit berserk. I am not as stupid as somemight think, just because I enjoy quidditch more than academics doesn't mean I can't analyse what I see, I just don't do it when there is no reason.

So I started thinking about Fleur and Bill and their relationship.

Yes, the way Harry doesn't care that Malfoy is an inbred prick, racist and death eater, Fleur couldn't care less that Bill is disfigured by Grayback. She loves him seemingly unconditionally. But it didn't happen suddenly. They were dating first. She just grew more and more attached when one day she couldn't live without him anymore.

That can mean only one thing. Harry has had feelings for Malfoy before the whole mess with him becoming veela. But for how long? Who was my sister to him then? Was he dating Ginny and thinking about Malfoy? Even if Harry was not deceiving her on purpose, even if he was not aware of the fact that he fancied the blonde, conceited git… How should it make me feel?

Hermione says that sometimes you can't help who you love. She is such a girl…

Of course I know that I am not going to be angry at him for long, I just can't help myself sometimes. I know that I have a terrible temper and…my own issues. Not going admit it though.

I am more upset because of Harry, not with him.

My best mate is like a shadow of himself. He is pinning after that bastard I can just feel it. He doesn't say anything though and Hermione says it's really bad that he has no one he could talk to about it.

She offered Harry once, said if he wanted to talk about Draco, we wouldn't minded and I tried not to make any faces (yes, called him 'Draco' as if we were friends). Harry just looked at her and smiled sadly and that was it. I am ashamed, but I was relieved. I didn't really want to hear about 'Draco', I don't want to know how badly my best mate is missing our worst enemy after You-Know-Who and Voldemort. Well, when I say that, it sounds ridiculous. Malfoy – an enemy. He is more like a major nuisance.

I was at the trial after all. It was so weird. The Malfoy I saw was not the Malfoy I had imagined. I had thought about him as a vicious Death Eater, but what I saw was more like a scared boy. Not so brave after all.

But then I remember all the things he has said to me, Harry and Hermione… still makes my blood boil. When I think about Harry… Yes, I know that it is not Malfoy's fault, but I am still blaming him. Fuck rationality! I am going to hate Malfoy for all this mess no matter what. He ruined my best friend, a great guy, as far as I am concerned. Fuck rationality!

I can't express how much I would like to get my hands around Malfoy's scrawny neck! I have always known that there is a good reason to hate him just for existing and now life has proved me right. Every day I fear that he will pop up and do something bad to Harry, to hurt him more. It has always been his special talent – finding out where it hurt the most and then poking till it's bleeding. I can't believe that he will leave everything as it is. I can't believe that Hermione tried talking to him and almost begged him to spare Harry. It probably just gave him some pointers, how to harm us.

What truly scares me is that I don't believe it's over yet.

Draco's POV 

"So, Draco," Severus starts. "What are we going to do about Potter?"

What are we going to do about Potter? I am not ready for a question like this. I haven't thought about it. I have spent my days here trying not to think about Potter at all, pretend that he exists somewhere far, far away, somewhere on the moon or anywhere else where I can't reach him. where he can't reach me.

I don't want to do anything about Potter. What are 'we' supposed to do about him? Besides trying to forget that he exists.

"How about, nothing?" I inquire carefully. I would really like that. Doesn't Severus see that I don't like this particular topic? I make a bit of a face to hint that the inquiry is not appreciated.

Severus looks pensive. Then he looks me into eye. His eyes are so dark that one can see the pupil only from a very close distance. They are usually demanding and merciful. Except when he looks at me. He has a very soft spot for me, which I don't fully understand, but I am not going to complain as long as it gets me good things.

"We have been prolonging this for too long, Draco," he states. "You have had enough time to get over the unpleasant experience. Now is time to act. We are slytherins, we need to discuss this, find the most beneficial way of action."

I don't want tooo…

"I just want to leave it behind," my voice sounds quieter and weaker than I would have liked.

Severus sighs and rubs his temples tiredly: "How old are you Draco?" it is not a question. Besides he knows how old I am. "You are acting as a child. Running from it. Hiding."

I don't say anything. He hasn't finished yet.

"Don't you want revenge? This is a perfect opportunity. He is not essential to our survival anymore," his voice reminds me of a snake. I red an old tale once. It was about a snake who tempted people to do things, Severus's voice is that snake right now.

But itdoesn't tempt me, not at all. I know it should. I am a slytherin. I should be exited. With what happened… the possibilities, the ways I could explore this, they are endless…

But do I want revenge? No, I don't I shake my head. I don't want to do anything about Potter, I want to leave it be.

"There is nothing, nothing I want to do about Potter," I finally manage to get the words past my lips and. There is no conviction in my words, Oh, Merlin…

And then I flinch. Severus springs to his feet and his chair falls on the floor with a loud bang.

"Nothing, Draco, nothing? Do you hear yourself? He kidnaps you, holds you in his house against his will and you don't want to do anything about it?"

I keep shaking my head.

He grabs me by the shoulders and pulls to my feet.

"And it wasn't all, am I right? Tell me Draco! Did he touch you? Did Potter touch you with his dirty hands? Where did he touch you? Did he take you? He did, didn't he! And you want me to forget about it!"

He is enraged, so mad at me that I am scared; I wish that I could say something, but nothing good comes to my mind. I turn my head aside; I don't want to look in his eyes, so dark and furious.

"Look at me, Draco!" Severus orders and I must comply. "Did Potter touch you?"

I nod. Severus is right Potter did touch me and I never said 'no'. I realize that I never, ever made any protest. But then he never did hurt me, he locked me up and confused me, but never scared or hurt me. He was incredibly gentle and patient with me, he never even lost his temper in spite of all the awful things I said… and in the end he told me he loved me, despite everything, no matter what.

"Why, Draco? Why don't you want revenge? Don't you want to make Potter pay for what he took from you? Why?" Severus' voice is gentler now and his grip on my shoulders loosens. He is staring in my eyes intently as if looking for answer there.

Why? I don't know why, I am not sure, well, maybe because no one besides my mother has ever said that they loved me…

"Because he is Harry Potter," I finally answer. As if that explains everything. It's not a complete lie. Harry Potter is Harry Potter and he is…

I think Severus grits his teeth. I don't want him to be upset with me like this.

He clutches my chin in his hand and keeps staring looks in my eyes. I realise that I have never been scared of him before.

"Don't lie to me Draco," he snarls making me flinch. "Have you forgotten that I am a legillimens." Yes, I had forgotten. I had forgotten…

"Your mind is so weak, I can read you like an open book," I can't believe it, but it seems that his words are deliberately cruel. He want to hurt me.

He goes on and I can't believe what I am hearing: "I patiently waited for you, for years I watched you grow up and become more and more beautiful. No boy should be so fair… I wouldn't dare to touch you, because you were too young and innocent in your own way. And I did everything I could to keep it that way. I hoped that one day you will appreciate it and… You were supposed to be mine, Draco, mine and no one else's! But Potter as always manages to spoil everything doesn't he? And now, you are ready to go against me for him! you are lying to me and lying to yourself."

I want to say that I am sorry, beg for his forgiveness, but I am too shocked. In my wildest dreams I would have never…

Then suddenly he leans down and presses his dry, cold lips against mine and I want to scream, it's so wrong. He has always been a father to me when my real one was not there for me, I am grateful, I owe Severus so much, my life probably, but… oh, Merlin, his grip on my chin is painful and all the calm and safety I felt around him… I feel his hand on my bottom and I can't believe he is touching me there. It's so wrong! I feel bile rising in my throat.

I try to break free. I am screaming in my head. I can't do it. I just can't…

"No," I whisper. "Pease, no! Stop…" I can't, I just can't do it, I can't let him…

Severus stops trying to coax my unresponsive lips into a kiss and he is looking at me and I know that he sees how horrified I look. I don't want to, he is important to me, I don't want to hurt him, but I know that it is too late.

"No, you are saying 'no' to me. Did you tell 'no' to Potter?" Severus sounds so bitter as he pushes me away. It's unbelievable, but I am still relieved.

"After all these years, after everything I have done for you, you can't even give me a proper kiss? I can't believe what a fool I have been. For six years I waited patiently, I did everything to keep you out of any serious harm, which was not an easy task when one is…" he doesn't finish, but I think I know what he means.

"I watched you running after Potter like a bitch in heat, trying to get his attention. It was always before my very eyes. What was I thinking? The infamous rivalry," he snorts. "It's understandable that none of the fools realised the truth, simple minded, naïve hypocrites they are… it's understandable that you didn't realised what you really felt for Potter, since you are so used to lying to yourself and considering what a child you are… But there is no excuse for me, I was lying to myself, I saw what I wanted to see and now I am paying for it."

"And are you happy now, Draco? Now you finally got what you wanted, didn't you? You never said 'no' to him, did you? You allowed him to fuck you, Draco. Stop blushing like a virgin in a whorehouse, you are not one anymore. I saw it all in your mind.

If you had said 'no' you he hadn't touched you. Veela never does anything to deliberately hurt their mate. You allowed him everything he wanted, gave him everything he asked, you little whore. You gave him everything. I can't look at you anymore! You disgust me! Get out of my sight!"

He pushes me away and stalks out of the room. He doesn't even give me a second glance or a chance to explain, to say that I am sorry… but what would be the point? I can't explain, I don't really understand myself. And what is my 'sorry' worth? What good would it do? It wouldn't change a thing, I can't, I can't let him touch me, kiss me… I let my enemy, my rival do to me everything he wanted, but I can't give anything to a person who I have always loved, who had always cared for me. But not like that…

I am left alone in the large dining room. It's getting dark and the room seems much colder and gloomier now. I am completely alone. I feel sick, I feel physically ill. A part of me wants to run after him and beg for forgiveness, but another part feels betrayed and orphaned for the second time. Even if I tried, I couldn't express how much everything hurts.

I just wanted some peace. I just wanted to be somewhere safe. I trusted Severus, I loved him, but not like… I could go to him, go to his room and beg him to take me back, tell him that I am sorry. I could close my eyes and give him everything he has always wanted, but I couldn't do that to him, he deserves better than me and I will never be what he wants me to be and he would never forget how I have belonged to Potter.

I feel incredibly guilty. I wish I could be what he wanted me to be. I wish I could be what my father wanted to be. I wish I could be what The Dark Lord wanted me to be then maybe I wouldn't feel as such a disgrace, maybe my mother would be alive. But I am weak. I have always known that I am weak. Good for nothing. Whore. Potter's whore.

I must leave. I can't stay here. For a moment I think that I should go and pack, but then I realise that I don't own anything here, all what is mine in this house is the wand in my pocket.

I leave the dinning room. I walk out in the hall. I push open the large front door and turn around to look at the house for the last time. It is so large sad and, sudden pain squeezes my heart. I am leaving Severus so alone in this monstrosity of a house. I have betrayed him. He has betrayed me – a voice whispers from somewhere.

It is all Potter's fault. It's really always about him.

It always comes back to him.

As I approach the wards I find out that they are not stopping me. I can enter freely. He has keyed me to his wards as if he has been waiting for me to come back as if he hoped that one day I will return. He is waiting for me, expecting me, he wants me here.

I haven't reached the door when opens and I see him standing there. I stop and for some time we are both standing there and looking at each other. I think he can't believe that I have returned and a part of me is afraid that he will not let me in. But then he smiles. He steps forward, reaches out and locks me in his arms and I don't even think about pulling away. It feels so good, so right.

"Draco," he says my name as if it was not just a name and when he says it, it really isn't.

He is simply holding me. He loosens the grip a bit as if he is not sure if it should really be like this. I don't know. Maybe it shouldn't. He probably shouldn't want to hold me and I probably shouldn't want to be held. But I don't care. All I know is that I want it. I twist his shirt in my hand on his lower back, where I have wrapped my arms around his waist. I feel him relaxing. I am glad that he is not asking anything, because I can't explain anyway.

I am basking in the warmth of his body, I feel safe and I feel scared, because I know that I had stepped on a path I don't really understand for reasons which I understand even less. For some obscene longing I feel in defiance of reason.

Well it's not that we have ever been at least remotely reasonable regarding each other. The thought makes me chuckle and startles him.

"What?" He sounds like he has been startled out of a reverie of his own.

"Nothing," not now, at least. Now is not the time.

I shudder. It's cold outside.

Harry picks me up on his arms and carries me inside.

The End

**My comment**I can't even tell if I like this fic myself or if I don't. I always think my writing is lacking in one way or another, but since I have seen worse and there are people who like those stories, I just post mine anyway.

But this is the first of my stories which is not against the canon – at least I think it isn't. Of course, pretending that the 7th book doesn't exist.

I enjoyed writing Draco as he is portrayed in the books – a spoiled brat with a big mouth, but not much to back it up with and a bit of coward. Usually I like a different approach, but this time I chose to do it that way.

And it turns out that this was my 'obligatory veela story, every author must write'. He, he, I am citing someone here, I don't know whom though. Is the veela thing, Ok? That was one thing I kind of found not that convincing, but well…

Oh, whatever, I just wrote one more fic and I am happy if you liked it, if you didn't, there is a lot of fiction to read out there!

You can leave a review,

I am very curious to find out what you will say about this one.

P.S: ABOUT A SEQUEL: I am not usually a sequel person, but this could be a different case, since their relationship is only starting and there are so many issues which Draco has to solve.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author**: TheSiner

**Title**: Unconditionally - continued

**Genre**: Drama, Romance.

**Pairing**: Harry/Draco (main), Ron/Hermione

**Summary**: HP/DM slash. Sequel to **Unconditionally** Draco and Harry are happy together, but others have hard time accepting it.

**Rating**: depends on which site you are on

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates.

**Warnings**: slash (duh!), swearing, character death mentioned, sex, dubious consent, some fluff. Not beta-edited, won't make sense if you don't read the first story.

**Setting**: after Voldemort' demise. Kind of HBP compliant. But ignores DH.

AN: This takes off exactly were 'Unconditionally' left you.

Yes, I am posting the sequel right here, I thought, why not, easier to find.

This is the first sequel I have ever written, but I guess it just happened. those who liked the first one… well, I don't want to disappoint you as it often happens with sequels, but I have this policy of posting everything I write, even if I hate it, because I mostly hate it. So here you go.

There might be disturbing moments in this one too, besides all the fluff and soul-searching which I warn you, is there. Be aware.

If you are reading the story on – it's censored version, meaning less explicit. If you want more – go to my account on .net

**1.**

**Hermione's POV**

I look at my watch. It's time.

Since Harry has returned from St. Mungo's we are checking on him every day. It is uncomfortable for all of us. And by uncomfortable I don't mean inconvenient. Harry is more important than anything besides it is not like we have much to do until our return to Hogwarts in September.

It is uncomfortable in embarrassing kind of way, because no one likes to be checked on, but I am not sure that there is a better solution. Al this patronising is necessary. We just can't leave him alone. I am afraid that he could do something drastic and irreversible.

Harry always says that he is fine, but I have never heard him saying the opposite, never ever, so it is his own fault that we are not taking his word for it. He says that the potions are taking the edge off everything. But we know that it's not so simple.

They are not drastically changing him; there is nothing he can take to get rid of his veela part. It is possible to suppress it, which is awful enough. He is using calming draught when he is feeling anxious, pepper up potion when he is feeling fatigued, poppy-seed tincture when he feels like sadness will overcome him, draught of contentment when he feels desperate and some really strange concoction containing opium to dull his senses when it's necessary. It is scary. I find it hard to approve. Most of those potions can be addictive after all.

For the first days we were staying with him to make sure that Harry could manage. It turned out he could and that was a great relief. But it doesn't mean that he is absolutely alright.

Getting over the depression caused by the loss of his 'mate' is going to take time. His mate. Draco Malfoy! Who would have thought that our Harry was harbouring feelings for Draco – I am so much better than you - Malfoy! Oh, sure I have to admit that he is kind of attractive in his own androgynous way (not my thing though), but what else Harry saw in that spoiled git I can't imagine and I am a very tolerant person. I am sure that Ron doesn't even think about that if he can help it. We can't really afford to be angry with Harry for making poor choices. He is already going through hell.

If it was someone else it would be perfect. I have read about veelas a lot since we found out about Harry. They are so dedicated to their partners and generous. The person who attracts such a lover is really lucky. Veelas don't date a lot, they choose their partners carefully, because they really grow attached to the person they spend time with and even more after the couple make love. After that something really remarkable has to happen to make a veela change her or his mind about their chosen.

It's so romantic. Only now I really understand Fleur and I feel guilty that I was not exactly nice to her in the beginning. Her nature is one reason why she ignored the fact that Bill's family initially disliked her (and weren't good at hiding that) since she was ready to put up with so much more for the one she loved.

If only Harry had fallen for someone else… Malfoy doesn't deserve him.

But sulking and casting the blame is not going to solve anything. I believe that we will get over it. We survived Voldemort. We will survive this too. Harry will eventually get over Malfoy and get better and then he will find a nice girl or, eh, a nice boy and be happy again. Yes, that's it.

So ten o'clock in the morning like every day we both throw some floo-powder in the fireplace and floo over to Harry's house.

He is sitting on the sofa, waiting for us already. Three mugs with hot, steaming tea and a plate with oatmeal cookies are already there. I smile at him. I feel so sorry for Harry, even if he most likely hates that, I can't hep it, I wish there was something more we could do for him.

Then he returns my smile and I am surprised to see, how wide and sincere his grin is.

"Hi, mate, what's up?" Ron greets and I can see that he is surprised to see Harry smiling as well.

Harry's grin only becomes wider and I am intrigued to find out what has caused the sudden change in demeanour. I hope he hasn't been abusing one of the potions.

"Well," he looks me in the eye and then glances at Ron. "Something really has happened. Something good for a change."

We both sit down. I am really surprised. I haven't seen him in such a good mood for weeks!

"Out with it!" Ron urges him. "If you finally have some good news we want to hear them."

He's damn right!

Harry sighs and his grin dims a bit: "I am not sure that you will agree with me. They are good news for me. But, I guess, there is no other way to say it. So, are you ready? The thing is that Draco has returned."

I must remember to close my mouth. I look at Ron and his eyes are as wide as a house elf's. And I am not blaming him. Sweet Merlin! I hope Harry isn't delusional and isn't seeing things now. I just don't believe it. Why would Malfoy suddenly return? Yes, Harry hallucinating seems more believable.

So, I must ask: "Harry, are you sure?" It's all I manage to get past my lips. I am just that stunned.

He nods: "Yes, very." And then he sighs again and chews on his lower lip suddenly looking so young, careless, happy and unsure all in the same time.

Well, these are news. I mean NEWS. I have to think about it. Process everything. It is a it much.

Ron mutters a curse, but not loud enough and I can't make out what exactly he says. It's not like I am going to berate him. It's the last thought on my mind at the moment. I am still coming to terms with what Harry just told us. Draco has returned. Draco Malfoy is back, he is somewhere here in Harry's house, basically breathing the same air as we at this very same moment.

I have to keep my cool though. Someone has to.

"Where is he?" I ask. The question is stupid. He is here obviously, what does it matter if he's in the bathroom, bedroom or… but I have to ask something.

"In his room, I think he is still sleeping, he was very tired yesterday," Harry states as if it was nothing special, as if it is something what goes without saying and the way things are supposed to be

"And you just let him in? Do you know why he is here? Do you know what he wants from you?" Ron finally loses it, which is really something that was going to happen eventually. Some occurrences are inevitable. Ron's temper is like a thunderstorm – it just happens.

"Ron," Harry groans. "He is here and… I don't know all the answers yet. We couldn't talk yesterday, Draco was very worn-out and not really well, so I had to put him to bed. I was not going to interrogate him. We will talk when he's ready."

"Oh, no, Harry," Ron's face has turned into ugly shade of red and I am afraid that he is about to say something drastic. "We are not leaving this house before we see the ferret!"

I almost agree with my boyfriend. That is exactly what I would like to do. The list with questions I have in my head is already sixteen inches long. But when I see how cold suddenly turns Harry's expression…

"Right," Harry snorts. "You think that I will let **you **to interrogate him?"

I put my hand on Ron's knee and squeeze it in warning. He must stop for a bit and think. Force, arguing and shouting at each other won't get us anywhere right now. God, I hate Malfoy more than ever for turning our lives upside down again, but telling that Harry will not earn us any points.

We must also remember that Harry is different now. No matter that the change is nothing we can see, but it doesn't make it less real. He is a veela with a lots of complicated instincts, protectiveness over his mate being one of them.

We must thread carefully.

The room is silent now. Ron has closed his eyes, obviously trying to calm himself down. I am so proud. He has matured after all.

Then Harry smiles sadly: "I know that what happened with us was… oh, God, it was so fucked up and I just…some days I just don't know how to cope with it. But he is still here; I can't believe it, that after everything he wants to be here with me. But I am ready to try, to work things out, even if I don't know how. I have a lot to make up to him for…"

"Don't talk like that!" Ron doesn't shout, but it is close enough. "It was not your fault."

"But the things I did…"

"You couldn't control!"

"I should have…"

"But he is going to hurt you," Ron growls.

Harry doesn't answer for some time.

"I can't help it, I need him and I love him," he finally admits tiredly.

"Love!" Ron sputters. "It's not love! It's a condition! Damn it! Tell him to get lost and take your potions!"

"Ron," I squeeze his knee again whishing he would shut up. You are not helping love.

"You know that it is not completely true, Ron. You know that there had to be something before I became veela, even if I hadn't acknowledged it. And then it suddenly grew stronger, stronger than me… well you red the damn books too, stop denying the truth! And what does that change for me, Ron? What difference it makes? What does it matter? I feel what I feel! I don't care what the reasons are, they don't change my feelings!"

I have to agree. He has a point there, we all know it. We have been through it already. Harry is a magical creature no matter how strange it sounds (ridiculous to me!) and there is nothing anyone can do about that.

"We worry, Harry," I say as gently as I can, I don't want him to be offended. I know how he is after all.

When he thinks that someone is trying to reprimand him without a good reason and believes that he is the one who is right, Harry doesn't take it well. I can only assume that it's because of the Dursleys, who were like that all the time. Otherwise Harry is the kind of person who wants to please others and can be very hard on himself when he thinks that he has done something wrong.

Harry sighs and says that he knows. He knows that we worry: "But you must understand one thing. Draco is very important to me. I am not going to give him up… I think I couldn't… please don't make me choose."

This actually doesn't come as a surprise. The only surprise was Malfoy's return. I didn't even consider it. I considered Malfoy going to the 'Daily Prophet', trying to blackmail Harry or dragging him to court, but not this.

But what if Malfoy asks him to give us up? Maybe that's why he has returned, maybe he has realised what kind of power he has over Harry and how powerful Harry really is. Maybe is some kind of sick plan of revenge or maybe there is something Malfoy wants Harry to do for him with his magic? Oh, dear, the possibilities are endless.

But I am going to keep my mouth shut for now. Harry is not ready to hear any anti-Malfoy theories. I will have to contact Remus and Tonks, since they are only ones who know what really has happened to Harry. We need to discuss possibilities and make some plans. Harry is too important not only to us, but to the Wizarding World as well and Malfoy is too… too Slytherin, too Malfoy, too ex-Death Eater? All of those, really.

Ron doesn't say anything else, he just silently turns his back on Harry, I smile at him somewhat apologetically and we floo back to the Burrow.

As soon as we are sure Harry doesn't hear us anymore Ron swears again and hits the wall with his fist. He says he wishes he could get his hands on 'the bloody, stinking ferret'. I remind him that it wouldn't change anything, just make Harry angry. Right now I think we should inform some people about the recent development. And then? Then we'll see.

**Harry's POV**

I slouch in the sofa as my best friends vanish in the fire place. It could have been worse, couldn't it? Well, I had to tell them. I didn't expect that it would be easy or that they would understand. Or that they would be happy for me. Maybe I hoped a bit…

But it doesn't matter for now. There is nothing I can do about Ron right now and Hermione, well, Hermione at least accepts the fact that I have made a choice and that is enough for now.

I understand their worry and reservations about Draco. I do. But it doesn't mean I am going to give him up not now when he is here.

I didn't expect it. How could I? After everything.

But there it was. There **he** was, standing right in front of me.

I didn't know why I keyed him to the wards. But I had some of his hair lying around, his magical signature still clinging to it, so I put it to use. I was not really expecting that he would simply turn up one nice day and my wards would chime like hundreds of golden, sweet tinklers announcing his arrival. But then I heard them.

I almost couldn't believe it, but then I dropped my mug on the kitchen table with a bang not caring if it broke or not and ran to the door. Didn't even put my shoes on.

When I opened the door I froze on the threshold for a moment. It was really him, it was not a ghost it wasn't something created by my feverish dreams or overactive imagination or wormwood(1). It was Draco. I could smell him from there, me being veela with all those keen senses I sometimes hated, especially when I had to be in the same room with witches who were using perfumes on top of perfumed lotions on top of perfumed soaps and shampoos and shower gels and who knows what else. But Draco… he smells incredible.

I didn't know why, but I could only assume that he was there for me. He didn't look like he had come to take vengeance or hex me into oblivion. Those possibilities crossed my mind, of course, but it took only one look at him to see that it was not what he had come for. Somehow I could tell.

I can't really describe what I felt that moment. I am not really that great with words. But it was something like elation. The purest of joys washing all over me like a tidal wave…

Draco Malfoy was here because he needed something and he thought that he could get that something from me.

I wasn't sure about that. I didn't know what he wanted and honestly I am not sure if he himself did. The situation was just too complicated… but whatever. I decided to go for it. Whatever was that he needed I decided to try and to do my best to give it to him.

Besides whatever was coming could wait until I got him inside where it was warmer and probably a cup of tee was in order. So I just smiled and went to him. I was glad to see him after all. This was complicated enough, so I was not going to make him wonder if he was wanted at all, especially when it couldn't be further from the truth.

Of course, I didn't dare to show Draco how wanted exactly he was here, I didn't dare. That he let me take him in my arms was more than I would ever hope for. That he grabbed my shirt and sowed that he didn't want me to let go almost brought tears into my eyes. But it was not the time. I could sense with my every cell, with my every single nerve ending how distraught he was. It was Draco who needed me and I was not going to burden him with my needing him. I also realised that I had no right to ask for anything, that even if he decided to leave in the morning…

No, that thought was unbearable, so I scooped him up in my arms and carried towards the house. I kept counting the good signs – that he didn't protest, that he let his head rest on my shoulder…

When we were inside I gently lowered him on the couch in the living room, got the soft comforter and wrapped around him. I was not sure if Draco was trembling because he was cold or for some other reason. He was not afraid, fear is one of the easiest emotions to smell. But the comforter wouldn't hurt. I offered him a cup of tea and Draco just nodded.

Preparing tea for him gave me a chance to escape his presence for a bit, but still, it didn't help with collecting my thoughts as I had hoped. That was not going to be so easy, I realised. But there was no rush, I decided. We had all the time in the world to figure out what was happening and how to deal with it, didn't we?

Yes, that was it. Patience.

I was a lot calmer after all when I handed Draco the mug, steaming and full of white and sweet tea. Once it had seemed so important to find out how he liked it. Now I had more questions and not enough courage to ask them. Yet. It was ironic that the famous Gryffindor bravery went just that far. But the courage I needed to fight evil wizards was not the kind of courage that could help me then. I have learned that there are many different kinds.

I sat on the opposite end of the sofa to give Draco enough space and watched him wrap his pale, elegant fingers around the steaming, dark blue mug. He took a little slip. I would have made slurping sound, but good manners obviously came so naturally for him, where I had to think not to make a blunder, Draco would probably have to make an effort if he wanted to appear anything but proper and graceful. That was only one of the things I found incredibly fascinating about him. I have never seen him goofy or awkward as teenage boys tended to be.

I wanted to warn him to be careful, that the tea was very hot. I wanted to take him in my arms, to hug him, to ask what was wrong and if I could do something about it. I wanted to fix it, to fix him…

But I didn't dare. I was sitting there as a beggar, ready to plead for scraps of his attention, for a chance to stay near him, for a chance to say that I were story for everything I had done, for mistakes I had made. Some part of me wanted to fire-call someone and beg to take him away, not to let me hurt him again. How could he be there, back in the house where I had imprisoned and kept him against his will.

I couldn't simply agree with my mediwitch who had said that it had all been an unfortunate conjuncture. With the battle and power boost and sudden change of species, awakening of dormant heritage… she said that the situation was too confusing and I was not ready to deal with my new instincts. My sub-consciousness was suddenly speaking louder than ever and telling me how much I had always desired my school rival, my enemy even. My consciousness wouldn't shut up and was insisting on opposite, it was reminding me what a bad person Draco was. My instincts insisted on binding my mate to me in every possible way and keeping him safe. No wonder that I was feeling so torn all the time.

But the thing is that I can't plead insanity. I understand what the mediwitch says, but I just can't accept it. I am responsible for my actions no matter what caused them. I just hate-- I hate that everyone is so eager to forgive me! Make excuses. It isn't fair, it isn't fair to Draco. Even if they are saying that I couldn't have hurt him if he hadn't let me, I did. They say I couldn't have…. For fucks sake, let's call things by their proper names, the word is 'rape'. But everyone says I couldn't have raped him, that my veela instincts wouldn't have let me.

What should I think then? That Draco wanted that? How fucked up is that? How fucked up am I? How fucked is he? How fucked up are we? Oh shite…

Even if Draco allowed it, allowed me to hurt, to abuse him, it doesn't make what I did right. It doesn't.

But he was simply sitting there and hypnotising the mug. I didn't know what to say to him. I didn't want to bullock this up and that was a good reason to keep my mouth shut.

But it was getting late and we couldn't sit like this all night long. So I tentatively said his name and he turned his head and I was struck by all that silver gorgeousness. I actually did shake my head to get the fog out of it. But there was dull fatigue in those beautiful orbs. He was very tired and sad.

"Draco," I repeated gently, standing up. I took away his mug and put it on the small tea-table at the side. Then I held out my hand and he took it. A wave of happiness washed over me. I helped Draco to his feet.

"You need to get some sleep, come," I said and he followed me. He didn't ask any questions, just went with me.

**Draco's POV**

I am alone when I wake up in the morning.

I open my eyes and the familiar setting is so very much soothing, more than Severus' custom made calming draught, but probably he wouldn't allow me to use his given name anymore, so it must be 'Snape's custom made calming draught' now. I wonder if he knows that I am at Potter's, that I did probably the worst thing I could after our row (the understatement of the century) yesterday. I proved that Severus was right. I ran straight to Potter. But I just can't be alone right now. And I have that strange sense of belonging. Like I belong here. With him. And I know that he can take care of me.

I guess I am finally admitting that I need someone to take care of me. I am willingly admitting my weakness. But then, I think this makes me more of a Malfoy If I am letting someone to take care of me then I am choosing the strongest and the best as my champion. Who else is more remarkable than The-Boy-Who-Lived these days? I guess the Malfoy in me should be placated by that. Only the best is good enough.

Does not mean that generations of ancestors are not turning in their graves at this very moment.

But then, I am not sure if I deserve to use our name anymore since what I have recently done betrays everything my pure-blooded ancestors have ever believed in… but if I really think about what the Malfoy name stands for. It doesn't only mean that my family originally comes from France. Mal Foi, the house of Malfoy, is the house of Bad Faith.

And what most likely is more important there is that I am the one Malfoy who is pretty much alive and breathing.

However, even it is not important (but still a fact) – no matter how I excuse myself, I still feel like a traitor. But… oh well, there are just some things one has to learn to live with.

A bit of guilt gnawing in my stomach is not something I am going to die of, what can't be said about the Dementor's kiss or Killing curse.

And the bitter truth is that the name I have been so proud of has lost a lot of its value these days.

Besides at the moment I don't care of my fortune, of the Manor or any other estates. I am back in my attic room and it is fine, turns out that it is what I wanted after all. I realise that it is probably not very sane. I do. But I can't deny that there is something I have missed about it. I think it has something to do with the way I felt when I was here the last time. I feel like I belong here. I feel safe here, wrapped up in Potter's power.

Only now, I realize how much I actually like this room. The light, soothing colours, the fluffy rug on the floor, the roof window through which I can always see the sky, whether it's light blue, cloudy or lit up with stars in the night. There is nothing luxurious about it, but everything I need. Just after a couple of days living at Sev…Snape's spacious Manor I started feeling lost. Here everything is smaller, closer, cosier and warmer.

And Harry is here.

But I wake up alone. I don't like it. He didn't sleep with me. Does it men that he doesn't want me anymore?

Potter just let me in yesterday, then he took me to my room, he said that I must be tired and I was. But then he left me alone and I couldn't sleep. I spent at least two hours twisting and turning in the large bed.

Now I have woken up. I am alone again and I want Harry here with me. He is the one I returned to after all. I am lying on the bed and looking at the door. I know I should just get up, walk to the door, open it and go downstairs looking for him. But there is a problem. It's probably silly, but I just can't make myself to open that door. It had always separated me from the outside world during my stay here. I have never been allowed to open that door on my own. Maybe it's even locked, still.

But, no, it probably isn't, I am just being… well, myself. Whatever that means these days. The concept has become kind of ambiguous. I can't be my mother's darling little boy anymore. She's dead. I can't be the proud Malfoy heir. There is nothing to be proud of. I never really learned how to be the son my father wanted, so that wouldn't have worked anyway. The same goes for a Death Eater. I was an awful one and there are no Death Eaters anymore anyway. To be the Slytherin Prince? Other Slytherins are needed for that, because a prince needs to rule over something. To be Potters archrival? Oh, but that was the biggest lie of them all.

My masks have fallen. They are crumpling one after another and I am terrified. I am afraid that there might be no face underneath. Or if there is a face after all, then not even I myself know what it looks like. What if it's not a face I can stand sand looking at in the mirror every day?

I am not completely sure about anything. I wish I were. I wish I were more certain about everything, but that was long time ago.

Finally I stand up and go to the bathroom. I use the toilet and take a reasonably long shower. I dry my hair, magically, since I have my wand back. It's not good for hair to rub it with a towel and I don't have to wait until my hair dries, I just wave my wand and my blonde locks are as perfect as they have ever been. I may sound vain, but my hair is perfect. And it's perfect, because I take care of it. Blaise used to make fun of me because I knew more various manicure spells than any girl in our house. But that was inevitable – I spent ten years of my life in my mother's room watching her making her morning toilet, her evening toilet, her afternoon toilet.

Is it any surprise that no matter how embarrassing that is the first spells I learned were hair straightening and depilatory charms? As soon as I got my wand which was many years before receiving my Hogwarts letter, since my family didn't care for those ridiculous underage magic laws, I started repeating what I saw and at the age of eight knew everything my mother did. I think she got to me first. I never told my father, but for some reason I preferred the smell of exotic oils, lotions and perfumes to that of blood, burning flesh and fear which came with the Dark Arts. I preferred luxurious boudoirs to dark and damp dungeons and mirrors, trinkets and sparkling jewels and expensive silks and velvets to skulls, withered hands and dusty, screeching tomes. Yes, I am weird like that.

After I have done all the primping I could think of, I have to return to my room.

Now I am standing there staring at the flowery wallpaper like an idiot. I have no idea what to do. Once again I stare at the door that is not going to open itself. Can I get any more pathetic?

I am saved by a knock. No one comes in, so I assume that the one behind that door is waiting for me to say that they can enter. It's funny because for long time no one has bothered to wait until I allowed them entrance. My father never knocked on the door – he sent a house elf who announced that 'The Lord Malfoy was about to grace the young master with his presence'. The house elf was not asking, he was announcing.

My status in The Dark Lord's lair was so low that I was completely stripped of any rights to privacy. Everyone who needed a potion barged in without even announcing themselves and I was too grateful that it was only another Death Eater and not HIM to really care.

Then I became Potter's prisoner. He never knocked before. Now, when I am here from my free will which probably makes me a different kind of prisoner, but let's not get too philosophical here.

I take a deep breath and call out: "Come in!"

It's Potter. Who else could it be? Another team of Aurors, like the last time?

He says good morning and asks if I slept well. I say, I did. It is a lie, but, when people ask those questions, they don't really expect to hear the truth, right? _How are you? Did you sleep well? How was your day? _Those are just phrases to be answered with phrases. I sometimes wonder why those who despise lies and any kind of deceit with fervour are the ones who insist on habitual laying in sake of politeness the most? Self-righteous and proper – those are so called light wizards to you. When I lie there is usually a lot more than somebody's discomfort on the line.

"I made breakfast," Potter says.

I am surprised. Does he mean it? Has he really made breakfast himself? When I am just standing there and staring at him, Potter fidgets and says that he hopes that I am hungry. He obviously doesn't see a reason for my bewilderment. I think that it is still possible that I have misunderstood something and he has a house-elf hiding somewhere, so I better don't say anything and simply follow him downstairs.

We are obviously going to eat in the kitchen. I have never had a meal in a kitchen during my whole life. But I sit down trying not to stare at all the strange objects around us too much, I don't want to look like a mudblood first time at Diagonall Alley.

Potter pours me some tea in a huge, dark blue mug with a golden brim. He adds two spoons of sugar and milk. He remembers how I like my tea even if we have had it together only once, and I remember that we have had tea together only once, so we are probably even.

Then Potter starts piling food on his plate. I take it as a cue and do the same. I still don't see any house elf.

Potter notices that I am looking around: "Something's wrong?"

"Don't you have a house elf?" I blab out.

He tells me that he kind of does. Kind of? How is that? You have one or you don't.

"Well, Dobby pops up three, four times a weak, cleans the house, does the laundry and stocks up the groceries,"

If we had started talking about it, I think I can ask about cooking. I feel like I have to say something, because the awkwardness between us is smothering and adding silence it would be unbearable. And I know that it's better that I ask my questions, because his questions are probably not something we are ready for. Not yet.

It turns out that he is really doing all the cooking himself. I am impressed. Truly. I would like to see that. All the nice food that I have eaten while I lived in this house Potter has cooked himself.

His lips quirk a bit, he is amused.

"Cooking is not hard. A bit like potions, there is a recipe, you mix together ingredients, but it's easier, since nothing blows up if one adds a pinch of pepper too much and it is possible to improvise more."

It actually sounds interesting.

"I could teach you," he offers and I think I wouldn't mind.

After we finish eating Potter cleans up the table. He puts some of the leftover food in a big white box with shelves and cold coming from it. I wonder what it is, but don't ask, because I don't want him to think that I am dim-witted. He obviously has no shame. Then he starts cleaning plates manually. Without magic. I don't know the spell myself, but I am not supposed to know house-keeping spells. I would never admit to anyone if I knew any. It's not becoming. And doing things the muggle way is even less proper. It is unbecoming for a pure blood at least.

But Potter is not a proper pure-blood I guess. He is a muggle-loving Gryffindor. And maybe it's not like he has to prove that he has the magic; Potter killed The Dark Lord after all. That means he must be magically strong. I am curious; I would like to know how strong exactly he is. It is a slytherin thing. A little snake in me is writhing and hissing with pleasure at the notion that here I am, sitting in the kitchen of one of the most powerful wizards in Britain and he is ready to do everything for me…

It is thrilling.

Then he abruptly turns around and I am almost caught staring. He had finished with the plates.

Potter folds his arms over his chest and looks at me. The green eyes are swirling holes in me. Pun intended. But he is looking as if he wants to see something, like he is searching for something. I am suddenly nervous that he might find… I am not sure what I m worried about.

"Draco," Potter says calmly. "I am glad that you are here. You can't imagine how glad I am… and you can stay as long as you wish, but I just wanted to tell you that you can leave anytime if you change your mind."

It is obvious that he doesn't really want me to leave though. I can see it in his eyes, in his posture, in everything. He's so needy, so happy to have me here and a little bit desperate. And unlike me he can't really hide it.

He is just being fair. The bloody Gryffindor. He is not going to be selfish, he is not going to use his power to seize everything he desires and do anything to keep it.

I don't need his fairness. I don't want him to be fair. He is giving me a choice, but I don't want it.

Here he is, standing in front of me, looking at me with those incredibly green and honest eyes, thank Merlin, he has gotten rid of those ridiculous spectacles. He is wearing jeans, those muggle trousers I have never had, since they are considered inappropriate in my circles, for obvious reasons. But secretly I have always wanted to own a pair, since there is something very special about them. I can't name it, but it's there. And when I see the way they hug Harry's muscular legs, I think my heart starts beating faster. One somehow leads to another and next thing I know; I am staring at the triangle of bare flesh where at least three buttons of his dark green, almost black shirt are left undone.

I realise that I had been a bit lost in my thoughts when he asks if I am alright. Am I? Depends on whom you ask.

"You are an idiot," I say and look at him closely very much enjoying the confusion I see. It's time to regain some control over everything. I grab him by the front of his shirt and pull until his body is pressed against mine. I burry my other hand in his mess of hair, I am not going to stand on my toes to kiss him, I pull him down and he complies.

I would be smirking if my lips weren't pretty much otherwise occupied.

**Harry's POV**

His lips brush against mine, so soft and gentle, the touch is feather-light and teasing. I am taken by surprise and confused when the tip of his hot, sweet tongue sweeps over my upper lip. He looks into my eyes with such intensity that I can almost see the silver grey of his irises sparkling. There is challenge in those incredible eyes. It is as if Draco was asking 'what are you going to do with me now, Potter?'

What I want to do is to spell away the dishes and throw the cheeky brat on the kitchen table, that much Draco sets my blood afire. Does he realise what he is doing to me and what the consequences could be? Looking at me like that, almost the way he was sometimes looking at me when we fought back at school. Only this time he had just licked his lips and now they are glistening, wet and ripe, so tempting, and his hand has left my hair, it's sliding down my back, sending shivers down my spine it and tugging the shirt out of my trousers.

Is Draco trying to make me loose it?

"Wait," I manage to get out, but I manage. "Shouldn't we… um talk or…"

I can't finish, since he presses his hand over my mouth and I have almost unbearable desire to kiss his palm. I can smell several kinds of body care products which I got him on those fingers, right under my nose… I mentally shake my head to regain some control and focus. Everything about him is so distracting; my brain is turning into mush by his presence alone. There are things we need to talk about, I need to say how sorry I am and I am not sure how to get it past my lips since I already feel how small and stupid that 'sorry' is going to sound, but I need to say something.

I lift my straying eyes and look into his silver orbs again.

"So you're here, with us again," he says and smirks. Oh, Merlin, how familiar that smirk is. "Talking is exactly what we don't need to do," he keeps looking into my eyes with the same intensity and smirking with the same impudence. "You are an idiot," he says it with such affection that one hundred 'I-love-yous' would never measure up.

"Hasn't anyone told you not to look a gift unicorn into mouth?" he is obviously teasing now. Then Draco's expression suddenly turns serious: "I am as aware as you that many things have happened between us." He lets out a little nervous laugh: "Merlin! There are… I realise how fucked up this would seem to everyone else and… don't you think that I haven't spent enough days and nights thinking about it all of it over and over again and I can bet the Malfoy fortune that you have done the same."

"And I can bet it again that it hasn't helped one bit, this thinking and trying to make sense of this, of us. Trying to find the right words to say what you want to say, what you think should be said. Much good it had done to me… and well, I don't really want to insult your intelligence… or maybe I do, but anyway, I think the point is that if I hadn't figured out a better way to deal with the situation, then I doubt that you have. So, maybe let's not deal with it, let's leave it alone. Forgive and forget."

I freeze for a moment. What a perfect sense everything is making. What a strange squeezing-twisting sensation it causes in my gut. How much easier it makes everything.

"Potter!" that calls me back to reality.

"Harry," he says in much gentler tone. "I know how lame it's going to sound and don't you dare to ever tell anyone, that I said this, not even under veritaserum, but, let's stop thinking and just feel…"

There is silence between us and then I almost double over with laughter. "God, that really was the lamest, corniest thing I have ever heard…" Well, yeah, it bloody is! I can't stop laughing and my eyes are tearing up.

He balls up his fist and hits me on my shoulder, he doesn't really mean it and I see the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I think I could blame it on my mother's poor taste in literature. She had a thing for cheap romance novels. Damsel in distress, the brave, handsome wizard against the old ugly warlock… that kind of thing," she lets out a tiny, cute giggle. Oh, god, he''s so unbelievably cute! I feel drunk…

"Now I expect Salazar Slytherin banging on the door every moment from now and disowning me as one from his house," he finally breaks down and bursts into laughter. I have never seen Draco laughing like this without any trace of malice.

"Don't worry, Hufflepuffs will welcome you with open arms now," it's so funny and we just can't stop laughing, holding on each other and it's deliberating as hell, it's like all the tension around us is evaporating, the air is getting lighter and suddenly it's easier to breath and easier to be close to each other.

As we stop my hand is raking through his hair and thumb tracing the contour of his pale arched brow, he takes a deep breath that hitches in the end and parts his lips. I realise that his hands are on my waist and they are no longer staying put.

He lets go the breath he has just taken and it comes out shaky.

"What a guy has to do to get taken to bed here?" Draco asks lifting his head to look in my eyes looking a bit innocent, a bit cheeky and a bit eager.

Nothing. Nothing at all. A guy simply has to be Draco Malfoy.

***

**Draco's POV**

The first thing I know when I wake up the next morning is that I have quite overexerted myself. Well, no, actually 'overexerted' doesn't quite cut it. I feel like I have had an especially nasty Quidditch practice after a long time of not doing anything physical or like I have been run over by a dragon. But I can't help smiling. There are much better things to ride than brooms… ew, that was crude. I sound like Blaise. Does having sex do it to everyone? Blaise used to have a lot of it and was never shy about it.

But I think I understand better now, it is a really amazing thing if one really makes an effort or if two people together make an effort.

Why did I ever have any doubts about this arrangement? No, really?

I am lying with my head on Harry's shoulder with one of his arms holding me there securely. And when I open my eyes the first thing I see is a dusky nipple not that far from my face, I wouldn't even have to move much if I wanted to stick out my tongue and ran it across the nub. I would do it once and then again, I'd like to see if I could get Harry moan before he even wakes up.

I lick my suddenly dry lips. What would happen if I just blew on it? Or better wetted one of my fingers, spread the moisture on it and then teased with my breath… oh, shite, I just made a funny sound, all that wistful thinking almost made me moan and suddenly the room is much hotter and I feel need to move my hips to get some friction against the sheet which is covering me. Again! I thought that it would be enough for some time after the last night!

"I know you're 'wake,"

Wha… Merlin's beard! He almost gives me a heart attack by startling me out of my fanta… oh whatever… like that.

"Oh, sorry, I startled you," I glare at him. Yeah, right, someone who is terribly sorry about something looks exactly like Potter at the moment. With his eyes still closed, grinning blissfully like kneazle who got the pixie.

Who does he think he's teasing?

I am the one who is smiling when he yelps like a little girl when I bite the damned nipple which has been annoying me so shamelessly. Hard.

But I don't get to bask in the air of superiority because next moment I am already lying on my back and Harry is not loosing his time and retaliating with fervour. And I can't force myself to complain right now. But then I might remember this crude treatment and he would have to make it up to me.

Oh, good, it's great to be me.

***

It's afternoon when we finally get out of the bed. Really late afternoon. Well, it's not like we woke up very early, or went to sleep early yesterday. And I am tired already. He, I made Harry to carry me to the bath and down stairs afterwards, because it is his fault that I can't walk properly. I wonder if it is a veela thing?

Now I am sitting on the one of those high stools at the kitchen table improved with some cushioning charms and watching Harry as he is scrambling some eggs for both of us. It is fascinating, the cooking thing I mean. But I wish he would hurry up, because I am famished. But then I have this very warm, mellow feeling inside me and I can't really make myself to complain about anything.

Then Harry suddenly turns his head, curses and extinguishes the fire and looks at me somewhat apologetically and then I also hear the noise coming from the living-room. Who could be there?

"Harry!" Someone calls out and for the first time since I returned to the Godric's Hollow I wish I were somewhere else.

TBC: Ok, what do you think?


	3. Chapter 3

**Author**: TheSiner

**Title**: Unconditionally - continued

**Genre**: Drama, Romance.

**Pairing**: Harry/Draco (main), Ron/Hermione

**Summary**: HP/DM slash. Sequel to **Unconditionally** Draco and Harry are happy together, but others have hard time accepting it.

**Rating**: depends on which site you are on

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates.

**Warnings**: slash (duh!), swearing, character death mentioned, sex, dubious consent, some fluff. Not beta-edited, won't make sense if you don't read the first story.

**Setting**: after Voldemort' demise. Kind of HBP compliant. But ignores DH.

AN: If you are reading the story on – it's **censored** version, meaning less explicit. If you want porn-ish parts – go to my account on .net

**2.**

**Ron's POV**

I can't spot anything out of order when we step into Harry's living room. Oh, I can already mentally hear Hermione saying: 'Honestly, Ronald, I don't like it any more than you, but what did you expect? A portrait of You-Know-Who on the drawing room wall? Malfoy spreading some kind of evil taint around the house or something? Don't be ridiculous.'

Yeah, yeah, bloody reasonable she is and I am not, especially about certain things. But then, people are not always reasonable and not everyone is smart and logical, most of the people are stupid, irrational and they cause chaos and act unpredictably. Sometimes she forgets that. But anyway insists that I have to be reasonable. Can't completely blame her, but it would be nice just follow instincts once in a while and, for example, hex Malfoy out of Harry's house.

Harry walks into the room and greets us. Well, he is a bit tense to put it lightly.

"Oh, hi, I didn't know you were coming," which probably means that we are not very welcome. "I am cooking; we were just about to have breakfast…"

Hermione shifts next to me, she is as uncomfortable as I am and as Harry… err, did I hear correctly? Breakfast? It is two o'clock… and 'we'… oh, I wish there was a way I could suddenly retain ignorance of a five year old and not know what that implies.

"So, how are you feeling?" That's Hermione being subtle. Even if I am not the subtle kind, I can recognize it. Subtlety, that is.

But, for fucks sake! It's obvious that he is doing alright and without us here. I want to get out of here before this gets any worse. I have no idea how to deal with it, and I rather not at the moment.

This is like picking up a stick (intentionally) and merrily walking into the Forbiden forest with to have a poke at acromantulas' nest. Incredibly pointless and stupid thing to do, especially no one is forcing you to. Right?

But 'Mione has other plans and an average wizard like I could never hope to change her mind. She heads straight for the kitchen ignoring my and Harry's unease and everything I don't want to deal with, making Harry to let us in that subtle, polite way saying something about tea he could offer us and for a moment the reality drowns in her small talk… well, I wonder how she does it, but in the end it is obvious that the only way Harry could make us leave would be to tell us to bugger off and we all now that he wouldn't. Harry's a nice bloke, but at the moment I wish he wasn't.

I want to get the hell out of here. I think we should let Harry have time and space. In other words, leave him fucking alone.

The reality hits me back with full force as we walk into the kitchen and HE is sitting there as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Malfoy looks just out of shower; his hair is still a bit damp and dishevelled. He is wearing Harry's dark green bathrobe which is large and makes him look like a little boy in his father's clothes. His skin and hair are equally pale and flawless, even his eyes are very light. It doesn't look natural.

Hermione once said that the way Ferret looked probably had something to do with albinism caused by all the pure-blood inbreeding. I am not sure if she was serious or not, though…

I can grudgingly admit that I can see why Harry could be physically attracted to Malfoy. If one likes prissy blondes. Like Fleur. Well, Fleur is very pretty. Like very, very pretty… But I know that I don't really get that liking guys thing, I haven't even been curious like some guys sometimes are, have never wanted to do any of the funny stuff some blokes were getting up to in the dorms.

But I guess, Malfoy is good-looking. Kind of girly. But it would make even less sence if he was big and hairy…

Still, I don't see what else beyond looks could be there. It's easier for me to accept

that Harry is only after Malfoy's arse. I am a guy after all and see nothing wrong with wanting to shag someone, because they look nice. Kind of harsh, but…

"Hello,"

Hermione greets the ferret almost cheerfully and sits down at the table.

"Good morning,"

Malfoy sounds less chirpy. I think he is as uneasy as Harry and I.

Harry is lucky; he can busy himself with preparing and serving tea. But he is very quick and effective about that so it doesn't take a lot of time and very soon I am forced to sit down to have a cup of tea which I don't really want. Harry is watching the toaster, which is about to spit out the toasts every moment now, Malfoy is looking at Harry and around the kitchen. Hermione is trying to be discreet about scrutinising Harry and Malfoy. I am staring at my mug of tea and glancing at those three a bit.

"The food is ready," Harry breaks the uncomfortable silence and we all look at him.

"Do you want anything?"

I shake my head; I will be lucky to get that damn tea down and keep it there.

Harry sets two plates on the table on opposite side of us and Malfoy almost falls off the bar-stool he's been sitting on. Harry catches him by the hand and steadies him. I can't miss that they hold on each other for a moment longer than necessary.

I know that I shouldn't feel as if Malfoy is molesting my best friend just by being there. It is absurd in more ways than one, but I am not the miss Hermi-rationality. So I feel a sudden urge to growl.

I know that Harry and Malfoy both wish we just buggered off and I would gladly bugger off. But if Hermione were an animagus she would probably be one of those little dogs whose teeth have to be forcefully pried open if they get hold of something. Ok, that is one more thing I will never say aloud and I don't think anyone will call me a coward because of it.

Hermione goes on about things no one cares about at the moment. Like what Mum's been knitting, the size of Fleur's pregnant belly.

"—and you know what, Harry? I think I am going to get Mr. Weasley a calculator for his birthday. One that works in solar batteries. It might even work with magic around! Isn't it a great idea?"

I think this is getting a bit embarrassing.

"Hermione," Harry finally interrupts her; I think he has had enough. "It is all very nice, but what I want to know is why do you think you still have to check up on me?" Ok, he's pissed off. I told her that he would be. Harry's a private bloke, and very independent too.

"Excuse me?" Hermione already sounds offended.

"Why did you think that coming here today was a good idea?"

"Harry…" Now she's indignant.

"Hermione, I know that you mean well and so on, but at the moment I can't appreciate it,"

"But…"

"But what?"

Two red spots appear on her cheeks, I am so not looking forward to this conversation. I knew it was coming, but I guess I was hoping…

"You were very sick for the past month Harry James Potter!"

"And you know that the reason why I was 'sick', if you want to call it that, is not there anymore. We talked yesterday, didn't we?"

See, that's exactly what I told her our yesterday conversation was about. That was Harry politely telling us to bugger off. But she wouldn't listen.

"Gone, the reason is gone? He is there sitting in your kitchen at the moment!"

Well, now Harry's eyes are about shoot sparks of anger.

"He is not the reason why I felt bad, quite the opposite! He is a reason why I feel very good!"

"Oh, and what will happen when he leaves? Have you thought about that?"

"He is also present in this room,"

They both turn to look at Malfoy who stares back haughtily. Under different circumstances it would be funny.

"I know," Harry's irritation is obviously half-gone as soon as he turns towards the git.

"Really hard to miss," I grumble

Malfoy sneers, that little bastard.

But then he stands up.

"You know what, Potter, I am full. Or rather, I have had enough. I think there are things you should discuss with your friends and there is a book I wanted to read upstairs, so, have fun,"

Don't kill each other would be more appropriate.

However, Malfoy strolls out of the kitchen as if he owns the place and is being oh so gracious by allowing us here. The nerve of that little shit! I really don't understand how Harry can stand him. there is always sex, but even I must admit that no matter how good someone is in the sack, it doesn't make up for awful personality. My fling with Lavender taught me that much.

"Harry," Hermione says. "I am sure that there is something we can do, some other solution. I will start researching and I am sure that we will find something. You know what? I will go to Hogwarts tomorrow and ask professor McGonagall if I could use the library--"

"Have you ever considered that I might not want to be cured, Hermione!"

"I know there is some kind of irresistible pull and everything, but if you try to think about it logically…" oh, I am sure that's exactly what Harry's about to do as soon as we get out of his house (ha, ha).

"Come on, Harry, he's such a git! How can you stand him!"

I know I have to support her in some way if I don't want to have some huge argument with her later: "You could do much better, mate."

Harry just sighs tiredly: "I don't want to fight with you about it, you are my best friends and I love you and I know you mean well. But I love Draco too. I know that you don't like him and he doesn't like you and I have no idea what to do about it. But he is here because he wants to be with me and I can stand him, because I love him and I don't really care, why. I just do. Besides, he is different with me."

"I find it hard to believe,"

"And I am not in a mood to argue with you. What do you want me to do? Do I have to convince you with logical arguments and such? You know I suck at it. And what if I don't feel like I exactly need your approval? I am not saying that I wouldn't like to get it, but I am not going to break up with Draco because you don't approve!"

He sounds so determined. Well, I kind of saw that coming, Harry's as stubborn as they come when he has to be, I don't know what Hermione was expecting, but I see how the expression on her face is changing.

"Ok, Harry I think I understand…" she gets up with a hurt expression on her face. I really hate it, when she's hurt and it's hard for me to not get angry with Harry right now.

"I don't think you do."

"No, it's fine Harry, I understand, you don't need us now."

"Hermione! How can you say that! Only because I don't agree with you, doesn't mean I don't want to be your friend anymore!"

"I think you made it perfectly clear that you don't want us to…"

Harry stands up as well, looking totally pissed off now. Well, yeah, that was ind of harsh.

"Hermione you are trying to run my life right now. Don't."

I am no friend of Malfoy's, but I have to agree with Harry. She is going too far. Sometimes women can be so bossy. She reminds me of mum a lot. Mum is the same; she needs to be the one to control everyone. She kept going on for years about Bill's hair, trying to get him to cut it. And she gets so affronted when we don't do everything as she wants. I would like to do something about Malfoy as well, but this is not the way we should go about it.

"Hermione, I think we should leave Harry alone," I try to show Harry that I am feeling a bit sorry about everything. I didn't want to start a fight, well, I didn't want to come here at all and I still think I was right.

"Let's go home Hermione. Owl us if you need something, mate, or if you want to go somewhere to have a pint."

Harry smiles at me and I am relieved to see that we are still Ok.

But just one look at Hermione and I see that I am in the doghouse now. Doesn't matter. She will come around. I don't know what came over her. I am not going to boost, but I have learned some things, like that there are times when it's better not to argue and leave Harry alone; she should have noticed that this is one of those occasions.

And, come on, only a wuss would allow another person to dictate who they should date, you can argue as much as you want, but that won't change anything only turn them against you.

Damn, but I just realise that if someone told me not to date Hermione, I would have been less polite than Harry. Of course no one would say anything about her, but that's not the point.

And there is no way I'm loosing Harry because of Malfoy.

**Draco's POV**

I leave Potter with Granger and Weasley.

I calmly walk out of the kitchen pretending that their little get-together doesn't concern me. Its doesn't bother me at all.

Yes, I will break my wand and use it as firewood before I will admit that it does. But I haven't forgotten that because of Weasel Harry refused my hand and friendship that fateful day we rode the Hogwarts' Express for the first time.

It's hard to accept that my lover is downstairs with two people who are very close to him and judging by all I know, maybe the most important people in his life. And guess, what? They can't stand the sight of me.

All my instincts are creaming at me, demanding me to do something about it. But I am out of ideas and… I am just not feeling up to it.

Salazar, but I just want to hide in this room and never come out. It can't be natural.

There is always a chance that they are Gryffindors enough to dig their own graves. Or they could be reasonable and hold their tongues and not piss him off. Then they could make him think it over and that could only end in… I can't think of going to the Manor, I can't return there alone--

I have read exactly one sentence in the book, which I claimed interest in, when I hear his steps on the stairs. Harry comes into the room and flops down on the bed; he stretches himself and looks at me. I struggle not to shift nervously under his gaze.

Then he gives me a small smile.

"I am going to change the wards so they can call me, but can't simply barge in on us," he says studying me closely.

I assume that 'the amazing duo' didn't piss him off, but made irritated enough. That is more than I hope for. I am not going to complain. I have kind of fallen out of the habit of whining anyway.

I assume I don't hide my reaction very well or he just knows me better than I thought, because Potter remarks that he would appreciate if I didn't look so happy about it. What can I do but shrug? I can't help myself. The less of Weasley and Granger I see, the happier I am. But he is apparently not too serious about the whole thing which surprises me.

"They'll get used to it and come around," Harry shrugs. "And no matter what people say, we three are not joined at the hip."

Ok, I am guilty of making assumptions. Obviously he isn't that dependent on his friends and their approval.

Then Harry suddenly sits up and grabs my hand: "Let's go for a walk!"

I get the message – let's forget about all the things we don't want to remember and just be together for now. I agree completely.

And that's how the happiest time of my life starts. I truly can't remember when I have been that happy or carefree. Not since I was about six years old. We do like hundreds of things together. We go for walks, we buy food in muggle shops (which is one of the most exciting things I have ever done), we go flying, watch sunsets together, apparate to the beach and go to the movies for the first time in our lives.

When I wonder why Harry hasn't seen a movie before he tells me about the Dursleys. There has always been a lot of rumour about his home life, but I didn't really believe it, especially considering that I made up some of the stuff myself.

When he finishes, Harry looks at me apparently curious about my reaction. I tell him the truth, that recently I have realised that probably I am not an expert on normal childhoods and that I miss my mother and I am not sure if my father ever really loved me, but I sometimes miss him as well and at least his so called family didn't make him to join The Dark Lord and didn't want him to kill anybody.

I think I start rambling at one point, appalled with all what is coming out of my mouth. It's not something I should talk of, you don't talk to anyone about the family, it's an unwritten rule, but why would I keep following their rules now when--

"Draco!" Harry's hand is on my shoulder and I wonder for how long and I am grateful that he has stopped me.

He puts his hand on the nape of my neck and I instantly feel better, secure.

"You know what, Draco? If there was a Dark Lord out there who promised to give me my mother back if I only bowed down to him, I would…" his voice trails off. He doesn't know what exactly he would have done that much is obvious and he doesn't want to lie, but I know what he means, I know he understands. And I understand now. It's kind of poetic justice – I used to taunt him about his dead parents and now…

But that's not the last time we have those moments when we find out things about each other. It's like little by little we are shedding layers of masks and taking down defences we have both built around ourselves to keep everything that could make us remotely vulnerable.

One day Harry wheels out a very strange thing from the shed. It looks like a very fat muggle bicycle. I know what a bicycle is; he has showed me those already. The muggle parts of Britain are full of those.

"This," Harry says, "Is a motorcycle."

And it's similar to a bicycle, but we won't have to pedal to make it move and it can not only move, but fly as well. Potter looks like a boy with his first broom – almost disgustingly ecstatic. He wants us to go for a ride. I must admit that there is something almost alluring about 'the motorcycle'. It's black, sleek and shiny and big…

There's just something about it, it's the same thing as with those muggle trousers – jeans. They both have this special presence.

Besides I am never going to admit that there is anything Potter can ride, that I can't!

Later, after we return on ground Potter tells me about Sirius Black. I knew of Sirius Black, he was my mother's cousin, but I knew nothing about him. It's a sad story and Harry is miserable when he finishes it, but I know that he had to tell me. Sirius Black has become a part of him, without knowing of Sirius I would never know Harry Potter.

Afterwards we take a bath together and then I wrap myself around him and caress and kiss Harry until he forgets about everything except my wet, slick body grinding against his.

We both have a plenty of unpleasant, painful things to tell each other and it will take time. I haven't told him about Severus yet. I am not ready. That particular scar is still healing. I haven't decided what to think about it yet. How should I take the fact that someone whom I have always seen as a father figure wants something entirely different from me? Besides I am afraid of Potter's reaction. He's not the irrationally jealous type, not the kind who comes home and demands one's partner to tell what he's been doing and to whom he's been talking. But he is the one to glare at anyone who tries to flirt with me when we go out. And he is definitely the 'act first, think later type' and 'hurt my loved ones and die' type.

And he hates Severus and Severus hates him. I don't think anything good come out of a confrontation between them.

I have reasons not to tell him and I am not expecting him to tell me his every secret. If he wants to he's welcome of course, I am not going to fight if he wants to give me such power over himself, but he shouldn't expect me to return the favour.

Well, but we do talk about Severus after Harry tells me about meeting him at the one of Ministry functions he has to attend. Harry is turning down a lot of invitations lately.

"I deserve a break, you know. If I accepted every invitation, I would be out partying every Wednesday to Sunday."

But there are some people he can't refuse, because they are raising money for a very noble cause and such. Naturally he goes alone, because we are keeping low profile while we can. I really don't mind. I am not ready to meet people.

Not even Potter is naïve enough to think that we will be able to keep our relationship a secret forever, but we consider the time off media as our honey moon and are determined to enjoy it while it lasts.

Not that The-Boy-Who-Lived himself manages to stay out off 'The Prophet' and 'Witch Weekly'. Every other morning we both read what they have cooked up and laugh about it drinking our breakfast tea. I am not even trying to remember the names of all the fiancées he has had so far. They don't even have the gender right. No one has even suggested that Potter might not be interested in witches. It's not that here are no wizards like us, but it's don't ask, don't tell, kind of. Complicated.

It's definitely something one wouldn't accuse the Chosen one of. At least not until the gratefulness wears off.

Unfortunately, it means that it's going to be only worse when the truth comes out. So far we have been lucky.

And I don't

It's around the middle of July when Potter tells me about the plan to return to Hogwarts. Apparently there are a lot of students who haven't finished their education because of the war and now when everything is finally over McGonagall (who has been the headmistress McGonagall for some time now) has decided to open the school for those who have fallen out at one time or another for one reason or another.

Ok, then.

"Do you want to go?"

I also want to know how it's going to work, if he's going to apparate or floo there every day or stay at the school… damn it! If he's going just pack his trunk and take off to Hogwarts to play Quidditch and hang out wit Weasel and Granger and visit me only on holidays…

Potter covers my hand with his and I look up at him.

"Wait, wait! Hold your horses! I don't intend to… Draco, I wanted to ask you if you want to return to Hogwarts with me, if you don't we don't have to, I mean I am filthy rich and we can just keep on living and enjoying ourselves, I have more than enough for both of us."

I am about to stand up, go and get one of those fancy brooms of his and whack the moron on the head with it.

"Potter," I grind out. "I'll have you know that I am filthy rich myself and don't need any of your money, thank you very much!"

"Oh, I thought the Ministry took a chunk of it for reparations," he looks so cute when he is having his 'naïve moments'. All confused and innocent. I am almost sorry that sometimes I have to reveal him some harsh truths about how it all works.

"They took more than I wanted to give, that's true, but not everything and that 'chunk' was only off the assets they knew about. Right before the war started father secured most of our assets." I am a bit upset, so I have to insult his intelligence in a perfectly polite way: "He hid the gold."

The funny thing is that father hid our money not only from the Ministry, but from the Dark Lord as well. Sometimes I am afraid that some of Lucius' dealings will come out and I will be the one who will have to deal with the consequences.

Harry obviously has never thought about anything like that. Sometimes I wonder how he can be this naïve and innocent. But apparently he is not upset that I have cheated the Ministry and the 'poor victims of the war'.

Of course, everyone with half brain must realize that most of the money they took from the convicted Death Eaters and their families will not reach the widows and orphans.

Then Harry simply shrugs and continues: "Alright, none of us will be lacking money but are we going back to Hogwarts or not?"

"I am starting to think that when the Dark Lord hit you with that Avada Kedavra he hit your brain and killed it off!" Yes, I am loosing my patience here!

Besides this is kind of embarrassing and even painful, which Harry doesn't seem to realise.

And he is just staring at me like an idiot.

"Have you forgotten what happened?" It is quite incredulous, so I pull up my sleeve and show my forearm into his face. The Dark Mark has faded a bit, but it's still there impossible to be mistaken for anything else. "Have you forgotten this? Do you think they will be delighted to see me again? Get real!" I let the Death Eaters into that school, as good as killed the previous Headmaster.

"Draco," his voice is as gentle and soothing as his fingers caressing my cheek. I take a deep breath and realise that I have tears in my eyes threatening to break loose any moment now. Damn, how did I get so worked up over this? Why do I get so emotional every other day lately? I hate it.

"Draco," his voice caressing me with the same tenderness as his hand on my face.

"You were cleared, weren't you? And don't look at me like that, I know it doesn't mean anything, probably better than the most, but you did what you had to do to save your family and yourself. Who knows what I had done if I were in your place? Not everything is black and white… but all that is beside the point. I am not going anywhere without you, I am not even sure if I want to return, but I think that sitting our NEWTs is not a bad idea after all, and probably sooner or later we will both want to do something with our lives and we will need them. If you think that we should… well, I think there are some strings I can pull to make sure that we both have the chance. There is no way I am doing it without you. I am not going anywhere where you can't come with me."

He's going to 'pull strings'. How un-griffindorkish.

I don't want him pulling any strings for me.

I don't want him standing between me and the angry mob, but that is bound to happen as soon as the general public finds out about us. Besides, I can't hide for the rest of my life and I can't make Harry hide. He probably wants to return to Hogwarts and see his friends again. And Merlin knows, he needs all the education he can get, not all of us can be naturally brilliant after all. It is not as anyone has ever liked me there (except some of the Slytherins perhaps and Severus, but, let's not go there). So that won't be much different.

The more I think about it, the clearer the picture is getting. I can't hide. That would be beneath me. I am a Malfoy, we are survivors, we survive and we are proud of it. My father didn't hide after the Dark Lord's first fall, he did everything he could to make the Wizarding world respect the Malfoy name again. Not to like it. No one has ever liked us, but respect and fear – that we have always managed. And I have something father didn't – Harry Potter by my side.

He is still their Saviour, Defender, The-Boy-Who-Lived. Of course many wizards and witches are going to be upset when they find out who their Darling has chosen. Not only am I a male, but a Malfoy as well. The thing is that the Wizarding world in general doesn't mind couples like us as long as they keep to themselves. In families like mine heirs are supposed to marry, produce an heir and after that we are allowed to take for a lover who ever we want, discretely, of course.

Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived however is not just someone. He is seen as the public property of the whole Wizarding World and they want to have a say in everything what he does. They want to see him have a fairy tale love with the fairest witch out there and have a bunch with pretty babies. They will be disappointed to find out that there will be no royal family to be proud of.

Many will be very angry.

But there is a chance that they will not be upset enough to forget that he rid them of The Dark Lord mere months ago they will forgive him and maybe they will forgive me too. And if someone won't – well, Potter is more powerful than anyone I have met, maybe except The Dark Lord himself and he is perfectly capable of protect ing himself and me against everybody.

And even if… even if it's bad… well, we can always run away to some place were no one knows who we are.

I smile broadly at my lover who has been looking at me expectantly for the last five minutes and can't help myself, I feel a bit of satisfaction as I see him melting when he sees me smiling.

"Alright, we will go back to school, if you will manage to work it out of course,"

Now he grins like an idiot and I experience the melting myself.

**Harry's POV**

Draco Malfoy… I am not sure if I can really describe Draco Malfoy. I am afraid that he is one of those things you need to see with your own eyes… he's just so… and I am just so smitten.

But it feels so good that I can't find will to resist that giddy, content feeling, that constant state of almost drunkenness. No matter how ridiculous I look or sound. But it's not a problem because there isn't anyone who could see, only two of us.

I know too well that we can't stay at Godric's Hollow forever, but it's so good, none of us wants to jeopardise the paradise we have found together. Draco Malfoy is not my little, dirty secret; he is my big, wonderful, delightful secret. Something so special and sacred that I am feeling too selfish to share it with the whole world.

The only people who know so far are Hermione, Ron, Remus and Tonks; everyone else still believes that I am single. Not even the Weasleys know and I have no idea when and how to tell them. Until now I have been able to hide successfully. I keep going to some of the social functions if I think they are worth my time.

I go alone and that causes a lot of rumour. They just take pictures where I am seen with one witch or other and the next days the news about my soon engagement are all over 'The Prophet'.

The only good thing is that Draco doesn't believe any of that shit. I guess for once I can be happy that my lover is a Slytherin and has enough sense to know better. But he teases me about 'The Harem' though. I answer that I am going to turn him into a eunuch to guard it. Which we both know is claptrap.

But my birthday is approaching and I have a sneaking suspicion that someone somewhere is already planning a surprise party. Would it be a good idea to drop in with Draco Malfoy in tow?

But at the moment I have to sort out the Hogwarts' situation.

I leave Draco in the basement where we set up a potions laboratory for him about a weak ago. We went to Malfoy Manor, which was an experience I don't really want to think about and, even if he's hiding it, Draco didn't enjoy it either. But we picked up some of his things like clothes, jewellery, some books and equipment for a potions lab. Now he disappears there for at least two hours every day after covering his head with a scarf. He says he doesn't care for Snape-ish hair style which is caused by 'excessive exposure to potions' fumes' and I better not laugh about his hair-dress.

So I leave Draco with his nasty concoctions walk outside my wards and apparte to the outskirts of Hogsmeade from where I can walk to the school. Since I owled her yesterday, professor McGonagall, whom I should be calling headmistress McGonagall, is already waiting for me by the gates.

She is looking at me with a kind expression on her face. I know that she has always favoured me as much as the strict woman has allowed herself to favour anyone. I should enjoy her disposition while it lasts because I am not sure that she will be so benevolent after I say my piece.

I have also always noticed her dislike for Draco. Some of it has been deserved of course – I am under no illusions about my lover's character and his dragon-sized attitude problem.

At least on outside.

I know that he is making an exception for me by letting me in.

I am not sure if I should demand him to change. It would make things easier, but I can't make any demands about it. He has worked on his mask for too long to simply dispose of it. That's what the Draco Malfoy I thought I knew is – a mask. If he had to take it off, he would feel naked and vulnerable and I understand that he is not ready to be that around other people. I am privileged, because obviously I have somehow earned his trust which is absolutely unbelievable considering everything that had happened between us. But I guess that the truth is that our relationship doesn't make sense, but it doesn't always have to.

When I approach McGonagall I notice something I never noticed before – I can smell a cat on her. It's very faint, but it's there. I wonder if I could 'nose out' other animagi that way. Probably not. They could be just cat or dog owners and I would be smelling the same.

I almost feel sorry for the professor. I hope this conversation won't turn ugly, but I am not ready to compromise.

"Headmistress," I greet her smiling. I am glad to see her.

"Mr. Potter," she returns my greeting and smile.

I fall into step beside her as we walk up to the castle. She tells me about the school and the new professors they have hired. Nothing has fundamentally changed though; even professor Binns is still 'haunting' the history class. It's all small talk. After briefly discussing the Order members and what they have been up to, the headmistress turns towards me a bit as if warning that the conversation is going to get more personal.

"How have you been, Harry," she asks appearing slightly worried which kind of annoys me since I haven't given her any reason to worry. "Of course 'The Prophet' is offering us so much interesting information about you," she continues apparently amused with some of the nonsense she's read about me.

I roll my eyes: "Yes, they are getting more imaginative with every issue. But honestly I am not about to elope with any witches. And haven't become a father so far. I am simply enjoying a bit of holiday."

She is smiling kindly again: "That's good Mr Potter, I believe you deserve some down time. But I believe you are going to join Mr Weasley, Ms. Granger and other of your former year-mates and continue your studies in September." Her tone implies that she would be very disappointed if I didn't.

Ah, we are getting to the point: "I am seriously considering it. In fact I am here to discuss that."

Her thin eyebrows rise a bit: "Oh, that's good, but what do you want to discuss, Mr. Potter? You are very welcome back, surely you understand that?"

"Its not about me, it's about someone else,"

She looks curious now.

"I am talking about Draco Malfoy," I finish and McGonagall looks as surprised as I have expected.

"I want to know if he's as welcome back like me and anyone else,"

She is frowning now: "I am not aware of… well, Mr. Malfoy hasn't expressed any desire to finish his education."

"Well yeah, of course he has not, at least not to you. My being here is Draco 'expressing desire' to finish school, kind of. If you need him to owl you or something, I'll let him. We just wanted to know if he will be allowed back. Well, I think that since he was found not guilty there shouldn't be a problem, but… still, with everything that happened…"

"Wait a minute Mr. Potter!" She looks terribly confused now. "Why are **you** here speaking on Mr. Malfoy's behalf? How does it concern you?"

Ok, I think it's time to shed some light on this: "Well… Draco is living with me."

There it is.

Silence.

"Why would Draco Malfoy be living with you Mr. Potter!"

God, she's outraged.

It's so juvenile and I hate myself, but I feel my cheeks growing hot, but I think it's understandable since I am to share very personal information with one of my sternest professors who happens to be the head of my house: "We are together."

I don't think she got me and I will have to spell it out after all: "We're an item. A couple. Lovers." Fucking – is next on my list, but I choose to skip it. And I believe I have made it clear enough.

Judging by the blank, shocked look on her face - I think she got it.

"Mr. Potter," her voice is much quieter and more serious now. "Are you making a joke? It's not very funny…"

No, apparently she's still not getting it: "No, no jokes. I am very serious. Me, Harry Potter, and him, Draco Malfoy, are together as a couple. As lovers."

Now when it apparently has finally hit her, headmistress starts looking upset: "That is the… it's the most absurd thing I have ever heard! You and Malfoy! That boy…"

I simply shrug. It's true.

"Mr. Potter… why?"

She is upset, but I am nevertheless getting annoyed with her: "The 'why' - it's kind of personal. And why do people get together at all? What you need to know is that we are together and if I am coming to Hogwarts Draco is coming with me." No pun intended.

"Harry, I simply can't imagine how you and Malfoy could have…"

"It is complicated, but we are and it's not a fling, we are very serious about our relationship."

"Mr. Potter, I can't believe that it is not possible for you to find someone more appropriate!"

No, not this…

"Listen, I didn't come here to defend my relationship or discuss my private life at all. I wanted to sort out the school thing. I need to now if you will have us." I am harsher than I wanted to be, but when something threatens my relationship, I do get defensive.

McGonagall's lips are twitching and it's not the good 'about to smile' twitch. It's more like 'don't really want to start yelling' twitch. She looks disturbed and disappointed, but while I am not happy with her glaring at me, I am not letting her make me feel guilty just because I am dating someone she doesn't approve of. Or rather no one approves of, if I think about it. But it doesn't matter. She can take her disproval and…

"I don't see that I have much choice, Mr. Potter, since I am not going to leave you without education. But I urge you to think about your choices concerning your personal life. I can't believe that it is impossible for you to find a nice witch…"

Oh, God…

"I have made my choices and I don't want to talk about them,"

She gives me an exasperated look: "I don't understand you Harry; you are such a nice young man. A lot of people care of you. Do you expect them to stand by and look at you ruining your life with someone unworthy; I don't want to see you hurt…"

"Listen, I am not a little boy anymore and I have had enough of doing things for everyone else. I don't care who wants to see me married to a nice witch or becoming an Auror!" Alright I need to calm down and stop yelling at her. I don't want to yell at her.

"And I am not here to discuss it. What I wanted was to discuss was mine and Draco's return to the school are we still welcome?"

Now McGonagall looks resigned: "Of course Mr. Potter, you are welcome. And you are also welcome to come for advice when you need it, even if you think that you don't need it."

She looks hurt and disappointed and I recognise an attempt to guilt-trip me. I think she, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley have been exchanging notes. Or maybe it's a woman thing. But I am not falling for that. I have had enough of bossy woman trying to mother me. I have put up with it for long enough, I have done things people have expected of me more often than I want to admit, but here I am drawing a line.

I want to live my life and I want to live it with Draco.

I say goodbye to the still sullen looking headmistress and leave her office impatient to get back home to my lover. I really hope that he has had enough of potionmaking for today. The idea of feeling jealous of pixie liver and chopped hemlock is kind of disturbing.

***

I find him in the kitchen, making a ham and cheese sandwich, the way I taught him. At first I didn't believe him, when he told me that he had never made even that much for himself.

Draco is pensive, when I tell him about my conversation with McGonagall and a bit worried, as far as I can tell.

"It's going to be alright," I move closer to him.

I put my hand on the nape of his neck massaging it gently; I can tell that it is exactly what he needs after standing by the laboratory table for about three hours. And I think my touch makes him relax a bit, I can feel his muscles loosening up under my hand already.

I have gotten to know Draco Malfoy very well and I know that all that cockiness and attitude only means that deep inside he is more vulnerable and insecure than many other people and sometimes that is exactly the reason why he is trying so hard to put up a brave front and prove the opposite. Draco is not as strong as he might seem and he thinks that there is something wrong with that. I think somewhere deep inside he still wants to be his father, but even if I didn't know Lucius that well, I am sure that Draco is nothing like him. And that is a very good thing.

And he is not me either.

And he doesn't have to prove anything as far as I am concerned.

Not everyone must be a hero and recklessly rush into danger and sacrifice himself for the greater good. I have been there, done that and now everyone is making such a big deal out of it. As if it makes me better than other people. But I didn't have much choice, did I? I was marked and it's just good luck and fortunate coincidence that I was the right man for the job. Imagine if Voldemort had decided to attack the Longbottoms first…

Who knows what had happened if I actually had a choice. Maybe I… no, I wouldn't have left the wizarding Britain to fend for itself. But does lack of survival instinct is such a good thing?

Maybe it makes me a fool in the end of it.

Besides Draco is better than me in a lot of things I am not as good at. Like academics. My grades have always been very average in all the subjects except The Defence. I have no talent for potions and I have a feeling that Draco is pretty good at it. Not that I can really tell since I suck at that particular subject.

I keep working on his neck and then move my hand up caressing his scalp a bit. His hair is really getting quite long, but I am not going to complain. Draco leans back into me. I let my other arm wind around him and slide my palm inside his shirt where he had left three top bottoms open and slide it over the warm skin of his collar bone. Draco leans back even more, his pert bottom rubbing against my awakening erection, the touch is seemingly accidental and innocent, but I know better. I know Draco better.

He is very fond of games and I wouldn't have it any other way. I am just glad that he can't see my smirk. I am fond, but that's not a reason to encourage him.

"You wanted something?" I feel him shiver against me as I let my breath ghost over the shell of his ear. I start sliding my hand down his back feeling every bone of his spinal cord and then without any pretence squeeze his cheek.

"You smell so good," I lean down and nibble on the juncture of his neck.

Draco's breathe hitches and he whimpers a bit.

"Now, Potter!" He orders then.

"Now what?"

"Now fuck me before I get my wand out and hex it off," he commands.

"There, there, I think that is biggest bluff I have ever heard, I know you wouldn't 'hex it off', because you like it too much… and I will get your wand out for you," I keep teasing him, enjoying how flustered he's becoming.

"Maybe I would like 'it' better separated from what's attached to it," he sounds so petulant and vicious; I can't help it and burst out laughing.

"Potter…" he whines desperately and rolls his hips against my hardness and I give up.

"Accio lube!"

Praising my seeker reflexes and convenience of wandless magic I catch the bottle and set it on the kitchen table. Then I turn him around and kiss on the mouth with everything I have in the same time untying the strings of his trousers which fall down freely around his ankles, I love his summer clothes so easy to get off… after that I grab his hips and lift Draco on the tiled kitchen table.

"Potter! It's cold!" He protests and I kiss him again making forget all the complaints. Draco shakes the trousers on the floor and wraps his long, bare legs around my waist pulling me closer and starting to undo the fly of my jeans.

I am almost afraid that it would be over before it has really started, because he's so… Merlin, I want him here and now.

***

Later I climb on the table and lie on my back next to him. Then I pull Draco on me. His legs fall between my thighs and he rests his chin on my chest. We lie there and look each other in the eye.

"You know," Draco drawls. "Civilised people don't have sex on the kitchen tables."

"Oh," I smirk. "Then you are lucky to be living with an uncouth Gryffindor like me or you would be missing out a lot, love."

Draco rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue.

"And here we see what a well mannered, sweet little thing you are, and how very mature!"

He laughs helplessly, as if he can't help himself and slaps my naked thigh.

"Ouch!"

***

Finally my birthday comes. I am nineteen now. It was not easy to decide what to do about it, but in the end we decided that Draco won't be joining me at the party Molly Weasley is insisting on. It's funny how understanding he actually is. He says that he knows how important my friends and 'those Weasleys' are to me and we are spending a lot of time together anyway and he is not going to make a scene just because I am going to have a birthday party without him as long as he is the one who I am coming home to.

I offer Draco to come with me. "Let's come clean," I say. "It will have to happen sooner or later and why not now?"

He refuses. He says the longer our relationship stays a secret, the longer we have peace and quiet. "Besides, every slytherin dreams of having a clandestine affair with someone powerful and famous."

"No white picket fences then?" I laugh.

Draco obviously has no idea what I am talking about: "Why would anyone dream about picket fences? Well, maybe a hedge of flesh-eating hawthorn…"

I can't hold my laughter and he throws a napkin at me. "That was some kind of stupid muggle reference again, wasn't it?" Draco pouts. "And stop giggling or I might change my mind about the fantastic birthday blow I wanted to give you before you leave."

"Oh, don't bother sweetheart, I am sure that I could find some kind soul who would not say 'no' to the birthday boy."

Draco narrows his eyes then he snorts picks up his tea and returns to reading 'The Daily Prophet'.

***

The 'surprise party' is more than I expected it to be.

I can hardly hide my irritation when I arrive. I hoped it would be a private affair with the Weasleys, my friends and maybe some of the people from Hogwarts I knew a bit better than others.

But there are so many people in the garden by The Burrow, too many for my taste.

"Happy Birthday!!!" They all shout out and it takes some effort not to wince, but they don't know how much sharper my hearing has become.

Then they all come, pat me on my shoulder, hug and even kiss me on the cheek. I have almost irresistible wish to get away and wash their smells of me. I can usually ignore all the sensations my heightened senses are causing, but when so many people insist on pawing me it's a bit harder.

I keep reminding myself that Mrs. Weasley loves me and means well… but, sod it; I do feel a pang of resentment for her, because this is the birthday party from hell, at least for me. It's not like I haven't had enough of this in the last few months, with all the Ministry functions and such.

There are a lot of wizards and witches whom I kind of know, but wouldn't call friends. That includes the Hogwarts staff and almost all of the order and their families and some people I don't know at all.

At least after they had all greeted me I am allowed to have some space. I talk to worried Ron and Hermione and equally worried Remus and Tonks and am terribly grateful that there are so many people around us that they can't really ask me direct questions about Draco. I smile and tell them that everything's completely alright which is true and they will have to accept that.

Mrs. Weasley almost smothers me with hugs and kisses and I feel my resentment of her fading already. Guess I am a sucker for family-like kindness.

Bill is carrying the youngest Weasley at the moment on his arm who is still a bit pink and whom I categorically refuse to hold longer than for a minute, because she's so small that I am afraid to break her. I also meet Neville, Dean, Pravati, Lavender, Luna, Padma, Hannah, Justin who are all eager to return to Hogwarts. Colin is running around and snapping a lot of pictures. There is a rumour going around that the twins have spiked the punch with something. I do hope it's just some kind of liquor and not one of their new products.

The party is fun enough, but I still can't help feeling like I am somehow cheating on Draco by being here without him, having fun. Letting all those wizards and witches think that I am single.

I take a swig of butter-bear as I watch people dance and chat.

"Hello, Harry,"

I am starting to recognize that voice. It's Sandrine Scrimgeour. I am almost not surprised to see her here since we have been running into each other almost every time I decide to come out of hiding and attend one of those social things. Like the presentation of the knew 'Lightningbolt', a broom dedicated to me…

And unfortunately someone always manages to take a picture with both of us on it which makes there almost the suspect number one in the list of witches I am supposedly dating. But I am kind of grateful to her since when she was once asked what was 'the real Harry Potter' like, she told them that I was very modest and a real gentleman and a lot of things newspapers wrote about me were lies. That's enough to get someone on my good side.

As much as I know her Sandrine is very nice and sensible and I have decided not to hold the fact that the Minister is her father against the girl. It wouldn't be fair.

I smile at her and ask her how she's been.

She returns my smile and says that she is all right and about to start her apprenticeship in St. Mungos.

Oh, well, I think it's great that she wants to be a healer it's a good and noble thing to do.

"You know, you are such an inspiration for many of us, Harry. A lot of my friends are thinking what they could do for the wizarding world,"

Here it comes… she talks about me as if I were some kind of wizarding Ghandi or Marthin Luther King. Should I want to inspire someone? Even some of people who had known me personally sometimes look funny at me.

"Good luck, Sandrine," I simply wish her.

"Thank you, but you know, Harry Potter, you have recently brought me some very bad luck,"

I guess I look really surprised and terrified, because she laughs at me: "Oh, I am just joking. It's just that I can't get a date, because everyone things that we are dating and don't want to risk stealing Harry Potter's girlfriend."

I wince: "Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't worry; I know that it's not your fault. I am just curious which one of all those witches you are dating after all."

"None of them, really, they have gotten it totally wrong,"

She laughs: "No surprise there, I guess. It must be annoying."

"Yes it is,"

"Listen, Harry, if everyone thinks that we are dating, maybe we could get together for a cup of tee, I know a very nice coffee shop, muggle, so no one would bother us…"

She looks at me expectantly.

"You want to have tea with me?" Why would she…

"Yes! You can have coffee if you want, of course," she smiles brightly. She smiles like someone who hasn't seen war and has had a perfectly happy childhood. She's like a sunbeam, someone everyone instantly wants to be friends with. I wouldn't mind being her friend, but I am already neglecting the ones I have…

"Well, I wouldn't mind, but I have been very busy lately and…" Ok, what else… "Ah, and if someone saw us together they would think that we are really dating…"

"Oh, Harry!" She laughs. "I wouldn't mind if they thought that we were dating!"

Eh…?

"You have no idea what I am talking about, do you? Oh, that's so charming," she looks directly into my eyes and the intensity of her gaze makes me uncomfortable. "I am asking you on a date Harry Potter."

Oh… oh, no…

I think I am kind of blushing now: "You see…" I am not sure what to say. "I can't… you are very nice and pretty, but I can't."

Sandrine obviously tries to hide her disappointment, but I still sense some of it.

"If I weren't… well, if the situation was different I would accept…"

"It's all right, Harry," she lights up another of her smiles which doesn't quite hide her disappointment.

"I am sorry, but I am seeing someone, it's just none of those witches they are pairing me up with."

"Well, then… but if it doesn't work out you can always owl me."

"Mm, sure…"

Then she suddenly wraps her arms around me and gives me a hug that feels very awkward and then vanishes in the crowd.

"Hey, mate, what's up," Ron turns up with his own butterbear in hand.

"Oh, nothing much, only Sandrine Scrigeour just asked me on a date,"

I almost jump as Ron whistles: "Wow, that's great! Congrats, she's very hot!"

I look at him in disbelief.

"Well, she is!"

"Ron, I am already with someone," is he really dumb or just pretending?

"And you could do much, much better,"

I press my lips together very tightly to keep myself from saying aloud some very nasty things. I mentally count till ten and take a deep breath: "You and Hermione complained that you don't see me anymore. Why would I want to see you if all I hear is that my relationship is wrong and I must…" I look around, there are too many people who could overhear and so yelling at Ron is a very bad idea.

Ron's shoulders slump and he looks a bit guilty: "Sorry, Harry, I just can't get used to it. Not only being with 'you know who', but…"

"Yes I know," and I am trying to be understanding. "But I am loosing my patience. I don't want to fight you about it on every step."

"And only some people know this far, Harry, think about what will happen when everyone finds out, you haven't told Mum yet,"

"Not everyone is afraid of your Mum Ron," I smirk at him. But that doesn't mean I am not afraid to disappoint her.

"Oh, shut up!"

"But seriously, Ron, today after most of them go home I am going to tell your family. They will find out very soon anyway, because we are returning to the school on September. I don't think I can put it off for longer, no matter how much I wish I could."

"You are? That's good… and with…"

"Yes, with,"

It's past the midnight when all the guests, who are not Weasleys, finally leave. Only Remus and Tonks stay longer, because I ask them to, since I hope for some support. We sit in the kitchen and Molly is pouring everyone tea. It has been too long since we have been all together like this. Molly, Arthur, the twins, Charlie, Bill, Fleur… Percy and Ginny forever missing which still hurts.

I decide not to beat around the bush: "I asked some of you to stay longer, because I wanted to tell you something. You are my family, the only one I have ever had, that's why I wanted to let you know something first,"

I take a very deep breath: "You are not going to like it, but well, here it comes." I pause not for effect, but for courage. "I am seeing someone. Actually, it's more than just seeing, we are living together…"

"Oh, my…"

"And I have no idea!"

"But Harry, that's great!"

"We are happy for you!"

"Harry, oh, Harry, my dear boy. Why would we mind?" Molly comes to me, her eyes shiny and arms open. I step into her hug. "We don't mind, you need someone in your life, and Ginny, she would like to see you happy."

We stay like this for a moment. I, in Molly's arms and everyone else in silence. For Ginny, for the life she will never have.

"Ok, Lover boy, spill, who is she?" Fred, or is it George, who shouts and the other one gives a cat call and Molly releases me, brushing a tear off her cheak.

Here comes the hard part: "Well, that's the thing. That it's not a 'she'."

Silence.

"Didn't exactly see that coming," Charlie grumbles.

"Talk about it," Ron

More silence.

"Well, Harry as long as you are happy," Arthur Weasley puts in, but doesn't look that happy himself.

I want to drop the other bomb, because stretching this out is giving me a headache: "And it's Draco Malfoy."

Deadly silence.

Someone bursts out laughing: "A good one, Harry!"

"Very funny!"

"The liking blokes part is a joke too, right? You are having us on?"

"I am sorry, but I am completely serious. I am living with a man and it's Draco Malfoy and I love him," there. I look at Hermione pleadingly.

"Harry is being serious, he is living with Malfoy," she confirms dutifully.

"Oh, Merlin," Charlie exclaims. "How that's possible?"

I shrug. What do they want to hear?

"Harry," Molly sits down and looks stricken. "That boy? The one who let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts? Lucius Malfoy's son. He has the mark, doesn't he?"

"Yes, the same,"

"Why, Harry?"

"I love him," they are my family so I decide to be as honest as I can, they deserve at least that.

"But, Harry, that's…"

"I didn't really expect you to approve, but nothing you say will change anything, I just wanted you to know and wanted you to hear from me. And no, I am not under imperius or a love potion, you can ask Hermione if you don't believe me."

"Harry, but he was a Death Eater one of those who killed Ginny and Percy, how can you…" Molly has different kind of tears in her eyes now and I feel really bad.

I don't want to make excuses for Draco, for some reason I don't want to, but there are things I feel I have to point out.

"He was very young, he still is. They threatened his family which was the only thing he had and they threatened his life. Draco did what he had to do to survive and I am glad that he did. And he didn't kill anyone which is more than I can say about myself."

"He is a coward, that's for sure," Ron grumbles.

"Because he is not a killer? So it would be better if he was a killer after all?"

"He could have changed sides…"

"And left his mother to fend for herself? Besides I imagine how welcome Draco would have been on our side and how safe He would have been very protected by people who hate him just because his name, that's for sure."

"Harry…"

"No, I don't want to hear more of this. Do you think that Draco is some kind of spawn of evil? Born to be bad? You know what? Even Voldemort wasn't born evil. We have a lot in common, you know. He was also an orphan who didn't know anything about himself only that he was different and that people hated him for that. And then he found out that he was a wizard and that there was a place in this world were he would be accepted, that he was special. But what happened? He came to the wizarding world probably full of hope and expectations, but, guess what – Tom was sorted in the Slytherin."

"Besides Tom was more talented and smarter than most. You know what it's like to be the smart kid, or in fact to stand out in any way," I look at Hermione who lowers her eyes, I know she knows. "No one particularly likes the smart kids and to be a smart Slytherin is even worse, because people dislike you even more and are suspicious of you as well. So Tom probably didn't find any friends and didn't find acceptance he was looking for. And every summer he had to return to the same hell he came from, no matter that he begged them not to send him there. Who knows what kind of abuse he went through there; muggle orphanages were not nice places fifty years ago."

"I guess I had it better, my relatives were more neglectful than abusive and I was a boy who lived, the one everyone wanted to befriend. And I managed to talk the sorting hat out of putting me in the Slytherin. Oh, don't look so disbelieving. The hat wanted me in the Slytherin pretty much. Imagine how that could have turned out. I don't think we would become good friends with Ron in that case."

"I got lucky; I had a lot of things I loved, people I cared about and people who cared about me. I guess love I felt was stronger than my anger at this damned bigoted, self-righteous little world. You can't imagine how angry I was when I realised what was really happening. For ten years I was left alone with a family who hated me, oh, I know about the damned protection, but was that a reason to leave me completely alone and oblivious for all that time?

It took me years to find out more about my family and the damned prophesy and a lot of other things. No one bothered to tell me who the Sirius Black was. At first I was too grateful to ask any questions, but when I started thinking and realised what a perfect set up it all was."

"I was raised by prejudiced relatives who were abusive enough to make me hate prejudice as such, but didn't break me. I was saved by the great Albus Dumbledore and was eternally grateful to him. For a long time I ignored the fact that he was keeping me in the dark. I and Draco understand each other perfectly. We were both groomed to become the tools just for different purposes. The difference is that he was not cut for the role his father wanted for him. I am afraid to think what had happened if I weren't. And, no, I am not making excuses for Tom Riddle, I just know where he's coming from."

"And if you think that I fought Voldemort for some greater good or to save the 'great', 'precious' Wizarding World, then you got it all wrong. There is too much bigotry, hypocrisy, corruption and cowardice here. Oh, no, I did it for myself, for my parents, for Sirius, for Cedric and for all of you who are in this room right now. Draco did what he did for his family, for his mother. I understand him damn well. What had you done if Voldemort had been holding Ginny hostage and had demanded something from you?"

Charlie jumps up from his seat: "Don't you dare to involve her--"

"I dare!" I just want them to understand. "Because I know what I was ready to do to save her. If only it hadn't been too late."

No one says anything for a while when I finish. I am not sure if I am regretting my rant or are relieved. But I am so sick of being their 'Saviour' and I am still angry and I want at least my family to know some of the truth. I am no noble hero; I am selfish when people whom I love are at stake.

"I didn't know you were so bitter, Harry," Remus finally says.

"Bitter? Hm, if I were thinking about it every day, I guess I would become bitter, but the past is the past. I just don't understand you people, you are living in this black and white little world of yours were Albus Dumbledore is holier than thou and all the

Slytherins are evil. Sometimes I wonder how old you are. I was like that once, but then I was twelve years old. I grew up."

I look at all of them. They look very quiet and thoughtful. That's good I guess. People should think before they talk.

"Ok, it's late, I should be going," I turn around, facing the door, but can't leave like that. I turn back.

"You know I love you, right?" With that I turn around and leave.

TBC

A/N: Sorry for taking so long, but I haven't been able to write a lot recently and even with editing I am struggling.

Please give me some feedback if you are feeling up to it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author**: TheSiner

**Title**: Unconditionally - continued

**Genre**: Drama, Romance.

**Pairing**: Harry/Draco (main), Ron/Hermione

**Summary**: HP/DM slash. Sequel to **Unconditionally** Draco and Harry are happy together, but others have hard time accepting it.

**Rating**: depends on which site you are on

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates.

**Warnings**: slash (duh!), swearing, character death mentioned, sex, dubious consent, some fluff. Not beta-edited, won't make sense if you don't read the first story.

**Setting**: after Voldemort' demise. Kind of HBP compliant. But ignores DH.

AN: If you are reading the story on – it's **censored** version, meaning less explicit. If you want porn-ish parts – go to my account on .net

* * *

**3.**

**Draco's POV**

We both need robes for Hogwarts. Harry has obviously outgrown his, and I am not going to wear my old ones. Of course not.

We have avoided the Wizarding world so far and while we had some very nice shopping sprees in the muggle world, however, there are some materials muggles just

don't have. Like acromantula silk, dragonhide and many others.

But Potter wouldn't understand. He wears jeans, muggle sportswear and other very plain garments.

Of course I have been working on that. I have already gone through his wardrobe and

incendio-ed some of the rags I found there. Then I replaced them with fine silk and linen shirts, woollen trousers that actually fit and cashmere sweaters and suede jackets… and I honestly can't tell that I mind what's called 'designer jeans'. Not after getting two pairs for myself. Harry has hardly noticed, meaning, he doesn't mind.

I have gotten some of my old things from the Manor and they still fit me, but there is nothing like a new set of embroidered robes or leather trousers.

So shopping it will be.

Under different circumstances, I would be thrilled to go to the Diagon Alley, but since this is going to be our first public appearance, I am a bit nervous.

Harry's arm slides around my waist and rests on my hipbone. I suspect, he loves touching me there. Then he apparates us.

He pulls me closer to his side. I let him hold me like that as we walk until we come too close to the Leaky Cauldron. Then I stop and take his hand off me giving it the last reassuring squeeze. I am not really rejecting him, I think Harry knows that. But blatantly hanging on him in the public would be a bit much at this stage. I know he understands, but there still is a little pout.

"Can't keep your hands off me, Potter," I tease him.

"Not really,"

Good.

I know I look fine. I am wearing a pair of quite tight blue trousers, a very light, white

shirt with some modest lace trimming around the collar and the hem and a very thin light blue cape over everything. It's perfect a mild summer day. And I can't miss how much Potter appreciates what he sees. The git won't stop pawing me and can't keep his hand from sneaking under my un-tucked shirt. At one point I push him away, because my nipples and other parts of me start getting a bit hard and the material my clothes are made of is really thin, the shirt is practically see-through.

There we finally are, standing by the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. And going in.

Harry is instantly recognised. He greets the bartender – Tom – who is looking at me askew as well as some other people sitting at the table. Maybe I should have worn something less… I don't know, probably less expensive and eye-catching.

I think Harry had noticed people staring at both of us. He grabs my hand around the wrist and pulls me towards the brick wall where he swiftly taps the correct bricks with his wand.

Oh, I have missed this so much… I haven't been here since I ran from Hogwarts.

We pass the cauldron shop – I have enough cauldrons to last for the rest of my life already – and I pull Potter straight to the Slug & Jiggers Apothecary. So far I got by with the ingredients I got from the Manor, but there are some things I am dying to get my hands on.

I guess I am a bit overenthusiastic:

"Hey, slow down, you will tear my arm off," Harry complains.

"Don't worry with all the ingredients I want to buy, I'll grow it back, maybe won't be the same colour, but…"

Potter snickers.

I have made him laugh.

I push the door open and my nose is instantly assaulted by myriad of different smells – sweet and spicy, putrid and sour, fresh and musky. I look at Potter who is wrinkling his nose like mad and warily glancing at something slimy and obviously still alive, moving inside one of the glass jars. But for a potions enthusiast this is heaven.

Where others see smelly, slimy substances, I see potentialities.

I briskly walk to the counter. It's higher than most customers would find convenient, made of dark, polished wood and there is a small step by it for those who are not as tall as Mister Jiggers. I have always tried to figure out, where he's coming from. Could be some giant blood, but I don't think so.

"Good morning, Mister Jiggers,"

He has obviously recognised not only me, but Potter as well and now his little, black, beady eyes are darting from Harry to me and back.

I don't pay his awful manners any mind and get a list out of my pocket and hand it to him.

The wizard starts nervously buzzing around to get everything I need. It's fascinating to watch how his long limbs are moving with such speed when tall and gangly tend to be clumsy.

He packs everything in a large, grey paper bag, which I thrust into Potter's hands.

"Hey," he makes the token protest.

"Your potions supplies are in there as well, dear," what does it matter if they make about tenth of the weight he will be carrying?

I pay and we walk out, leaving the still stunned apothecary behind

We have to pass the Quality Quidditch Supplies… the new "Lightning-bolt" is on the display, sleek and shiny and next to it a photo - Harry holding the broomstick. It's a superb broom, but do they really think that Harry needs another reminder of his curse scar, of his parents' death and the Dark Lord? _'The Lightning-bolt'_, really…

How dumb can some wizards be?

How ironic, that I am the one, who in fact rides the 'Lightning-bolt', which they gave him, because Mr. Sentimentality would never part with his "Firebolt", besides hating his 'honour-broom' on principle.

We look at the display, then at each other. Harry makes a face. Yes, my thoughts exactly. I answer with a wry smirk.

As we walk towards the Flourish & Blotts we both are getting weird and surprised looks which we are trying to ignore, but no one has attacked me yet. I wonder if it's because it's the middle of day or because I have Harry by my side.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and it startles me, before I realise that it's just Harry who is guiding me into the bookstore. The shop is overflowing with children who are picking up their books and I suddenly feel very old and in consequence silly, doing the same thing. I browse through the shelves picking up what Harry and I are going to need next year. I think I am turning into a wife, buying things for him--

"Malfoy!" A shrill voice almost tearing my eardrums. "There is a Malfoy in the shop!"

I turn around to glare at chubby middle-aged witch who is looking at me as if I was a Dementor.

"I know my own name, thank you very much," I try giving her the coldest glare I have.

"You," she pokes at me with her porky finger. "You should rot in Azkaban, you! Do you know what your father did to my cousin!"

I can imagine, knowing my father.

"You will have to discuss that with the Wizagemont madam," my words are pleasant, but I am glaring at her as nastily as I can. Then she is reaching for her wand…

And then I am suddenly standing behind the very broad back of my lover.

"Madam, put away your wand before someone gets hurt," he says in a voice full of icy warning and danger. Oh… this is… he's so…

"But… but… that's Malfoy!" I mentally roll my eyes; of course, being a 'Malfoy' is a crime these days.

"Yes, that is pretty obviously Draco Malfoy, but that is not a reason to interrupt our shopping, so please leave us alone,"

I am so proud of him.

"But… you are Harry Potter!" The insufferable woman isn't getting a clue.

Other people are gathering around us.

"Yes, he is Draco Malfoy and I am Harry Potter and we both are shopping here. Do you have a problem with that?" He sounds truly angry now and the woman shrinks back, then pockets her wand, turns around and hurries away.

"The show is over," Potter growls and everyone pretends that they are returning to what they were doing. But I am well aware that some of other customers notice when Harry suddenly turns around and brushes his knuckles against my cheek. He looks at me with such tenderness in those green eyes that I… I don't understand how I existed until know without him looking at me like this. I want to hug him. to hide in hi arms so much that it hurts to know that I can't, not here with all those eyes around us, hungry for any piece of information on Harry Potter.

"Come," he guides me towards the till.

We pay for the books and Potter takes them. We leave the shop ignoring more curious gazes.

We are barely out of the Flourish & Blotts when we are surrounded by a herd of children of various ages.

"Harry Potter!"

"Mr. Potter, can I get an autograph?!".

"Harry, look here!"

They shout through each other. Harry looks at them dumbfounded, he obviously still is not used to his fame. I take the bags for him and nudge him with elbow. Potter smiles awkwardly and starts scribbling his signature on their parchments trying not to show how much he hates it. But I can't really imagine Potter telling a bunch of kids to bugger off. There's a funny scene to imagine…

Potter is very quick and very soon he grabs back the shopping bags form me and we dart into the Madam Malkin's. We are lucky – there are no other customers. Next moment Madam herself and a younger assistant come out and greet us. What I like about Madam Malkin is that she is very professional and wouldn't bat an eyelash even if The Dark Lord himself came in and wanted to buy a pink robe in daisy pattern.

"Good day, Madame, I am pleased to see that your business is doing well," I incline my head politely while Potter just grumbles something.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, what can we do for you gentleman,"

A couple of minutes later we are standing side to side the magical measuring-tape darting around us. No stools this time, we are both big boys. Our eyes meet, and I know that we are recalling the same memory.

It's amazing, how we have always been important to each other since that first meeting. Even if not in a good way, it's still a comforting way.

Our robes will be delivered to us tomorrow by an owl.

I feel accomplished somehow, and relieved we have done this. Now if only we could get some ice cream…

"One more stop," Harry announces.

All right, but: "What stop?"

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes,"

"No,"

"Yes."

"Noo…"

"They are not that bad," he finds this funny.

"They are Weasleys!" Moreover, the worst of them. Ron at least is predictable but those two…

"And you are a Malfoy," Harry says, looking at me seriously.

I shut up, because he has a point. But I don't have to like it. Why can't he let me wallow in my hypocrisy?

Even from the outside it's obvious that it's a joke shop and practically screaming '

Beware! Weasleys!' at you. I haven't seen anything that gaudy as long as I have lived. Except on Weasleys' heads, maybe.

The façade of the shop is awful. There's purple (bordering on pink), bright green, yellow, orange and the sign is sparkling. Almost unbelievable.

However, I decide to keep those thoughts to myself.

Potter pushes the door open (I am not sure if I want to touch anything in there) and as we walk inside we are greeted by a loud… farting sound… I can't believe this…

The shop is as garish inside as it is from outside and quite busy. Full of young wizards and witches poking at everything they can reach and some not so happy looking parents who had been obviously dragged in by their little, charming emotional blackmailers. I follow Potter trying not to touch anything.

"Harry!!!"

I turn my heads and see the two identical redheads who are both wearing neon green smocks with 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' logo sparkling on the front. Since I see it on a young witch by the till, and on a wizard who is restocking Skiving Snackboxes I assume that it is some kind of uniform and not what they wear every day. Thank Merlin.

Meanwhile Harry is being bear-hugged by the ginger-heads. they are about the same height as him, but Harry's shoulders are a bit broader.

"Come in mate," one of them pats his back and the other has noticed me. "Let's go to the office, I think that we can leave the shop to our most capable assistants for a while. Hey, Malfoy!"

"Hello," I am trying not to show that I am relieved, because they don't try to hex me at first sight.

The infernal twins lead the way and we follow.

Turns out the office is less offensive to my eyes, there is even a pretty nice leather sofa and two dark red club chairs. Harry puts our bags down on the one side of the sofa and sits down on the other leaving place for me between the bags and himself which I take without hesitation. Then his hand finds my knee and I instantly feel better, it's reassuring, because honestly, I don't think I will ever be comfortable in the same room with any Weasleys. I wouldn't be surprised if they hated me.

"Tea? Cofee?" One of the twins offers.

"Find another fool, Fred," Harry returns. Which is probably wise, knowing their reputation.

"Harrrry… do you think that we would try to prank our silent partner?"

Oh, that's something I didn't know, but knowing Harry he didn't think the fact was of any importance.

"Yes, you would,"

"Malfoy?" The other red-head winks at me and I am pretty surprised how easy going they are.

"Tea or coffee Malfoy?" The one who is supposedly George repeats.

I give him 'Do you take me for that other fool?' look.

"Aw, and we were told that all the blondes were dumb,"

"Especially the pretty ones,"

"And you are so very blond!"

"And very pretty,"

"But then, Harry wouldn't date a dumb blonde,"

I try to will the blush away from my face, but I am not sure that I am succeeding.

"Hey, cut that off!" Harry kind of berates them, but only kind of, because he obviously finds the fact that they have managed to embarrass me amusing. Traitor.

"Oh, Har, you come here, showing off your brand new boy-toy and you expect us to leave you alone?"

"No, no way!"

Ok, I think my moth is hanging open. They have no shame! I would hex them if I weren't left completely speechless.

"Don't take offence, Draco," Harry has leaned closer and whispers in my ear. "They just are like that; they don't mean it in a bad way."

"Yeah, Malfoy, no offence,"

"We are just that way,"

"The mad,"

"The wicked,"

"Geniuses!"

For the first time in life, I feel sorry for Molly Weasley. No wonder Harry thinks so highly of the woman. She has to be something to handle those two.

Then they turn to look at each other, their expressions growing serious, as if agreeing silently on what to say next.

"We were a bit put out when Harry here announced that he and you have hooked up,"

"But then Harry gave us quite a speech,"

"And we realised that it was the greatest prank he had ever pulled!"

"Oh, yeah, Mum is still recovering,"

"She even forget to grill us about that farting door chime,"

"Yeah, mate, usually she would be all over that one!"

Why do I have feeling that there is something they are trying to tell with all that banter?

"So, she's still angry with me?" Harry asks.

"Well, not exactly…"

"More like worried, we think,"

"Not as much about Malfoy, maybe a bit,"

"I think she's feeling guilty,"

"Why?" Harry sounds truly surprised and worried and I put my hand on my knee on the top of his.

"She feels like she has let you down,"

"It's about what you said and Dumbledore,"

"She's angry with him and… well about everyone now,"

"Your speech was a bit of an eye-opener, mate."

Harry sighs: "I didn't mean it like that. I am not blaming your Mum, not at all. I just wanted you to see things from another perspective…"

"You made us all think,"

"Even, Ronnikins," one of them says and the other snickers.

"And, that's something!"

"About the means and the ends,"

Harry falls back in the couch and closes his eyes. I shift closer to him and squeeze the hand I have been holding. He told me about the conversation he had with people he thinks of as his family. Some of those things he said made **me** think.

"Tell her that she shouldn't feel… bad about anything, what happened, happened you know. We must just go on and try to be happy," Harry finally says opening his eyes.

"Ah, happy!"

"Do you have any gorgeous veela cousins Malfoy?"

"Oh, they would make us very happy,"

"You look like you might have."

Their half-serious momentum of sanity is obviously over.

"Thank you for the compliment, but I assure you that it's really just a rumour, my family is not related to veelas," I decide that they have had enough fun at my expense. "And if I had any veela cousins I would owl them first thing after coming home to warn about you."

It turns out that those two Weasleys are not that bad when you get used to them and kind of fun. When we leave Harry is smiling broadly and he says that they like me and I think that he is kind of proud of that.

Oh. Whatever rocks your boat, Potter!

***

Next day we pack our trunks. Naturally, I keep an eye on what clothes go into Potter's. I am finally starting to believe that we are returning to Hogwarts after all that time.

We have even received our Hogwarts letters with booklist and everything.

I think I am as nervous and exited as every first year.

It's confusing, because part of me wants to go and another part doesn't want to leave. I have gotten so used to the house with awfully Gryffindor name. I have been very happy here. **We** have been very happy.

Next day early in the morning we cook breakfast together, which I know, we will not be able to do for some time. I have learned to cook, I am better than Harry is with the new recipes, the ones he had never cooked before, because I have more patience, I know, how to follow instructions and I don't have his tendency to improvise. No wonder his potions are abysmal. But when he is preparing something he's done before, all the sloppiness and improvising somehow works out very well.

We eat, do the dishes, shrink our trunks and walk through the door and Harry locks it. Then he takes my hand. We face each other. And then we kiss. We just stand outside on the path and enjoy each other.

His arms are around my waist, mine are on his shoulders and there we are, standing and melting into each other. He's bending me back, leaning a little bit over me and languidly exploring my moth with his tongue.

I let him. I always let him do to me whatever he wants. I love to surrender to him. He's my new master in a way.

Fuck you father!

I break free of him and start laughing. If only Lucius saw me now! He raised me this way; he raised me to do as I am told, to submit to those who have power. But I am not bowing to my father's morals or to his Lord. Fuck you Lucius!

"Draco, are you Ok?" Harry asks worried.

There is a difference between Harry and all the others who have had power over me. While Harry is my master, I am his too.

"Yes, I am very much Ok. I'm just very happy,"

He runs fingers through my hair gently: "I think you should stay out of potion fumes for a couple of days."

And we laugh again.

But very soon I don't feel like laughing at all as we step on an overcrowded platform 9 and ¾ where we are spotted instantly and in about thirty secounds everyone is staring at me and Potter.

It's not funny at all.

The fact that he is The Hero is a big enough deal. And I myself am notorious for being the one of the most recognizable Death Eaters, who got away. People conveniently overlook the fact that I am not the one Malfoy who slaughtered and tortured. Guilty by omission.

The thing is that we are stare-worthy on our own, but together we are a sensation. No one has approached us or said anything only because I think they are a bit wary and confused. Why wouldn't they? I am evil and Potter is holier than thou… well they probably are not sure what to make of Potter walking by my side.

And everyone must be even more confused after the article 'The Prophet' published after our shopping in the Diagon Alley. Honestly, we thought we were preparing everyone for the day we would come clean. We never expect that kind of turn: 'Death Eater Draco Malfoy Seen with a Harry Potter Impostor'. Apparently the possibility that it could really be their Hero with me is too outrageous and unbelievable. So probably some of them are wondering if it is the same 'impostor' again.

But we simply ignore everyone. Potter puts his hand on my shoulder and guides me towards the train waving at some stunned wizards and witches whom he obviously knows. There he helps me in which is kind of unnecessary, but I understand if he can't keep his hands off me. But I think we will have to discuss the over-protectiveness thing. I am not weak and I am not a girl and while I am enjoying all the attention I am not sure that it doesn't look weird…

Or not. I love the attention very much… I guess I won't worry about something so insignificant at the moment.

We are early and manage to find an empty compartment. Harry pops down quite ungracefully in the seat by the window and manages to pull me onto his lap which I don't think is a good idea and so I hit him on the shoulder which does me no good. He just laughs winds his arms around my waist and starts sloppily kissing my neck which is hard, because my long hair are getting in the way. He is more tickling me and I can't help laughing and can't make myself to stop him, just because it's not the right place or time. I don't care!

**Hermione's POV**

When we get on the train, we go looking for Harry. I am quite anxious about seeing him. We have kept our distance. There have been few owls, but overall we have respected his wishes and now I can't wait to see hw he has been doing.

It is obvious that he had arrived, because people outside are whispering among themselves and I have overheard Harry's name mentioned very clearly.

Most of the students haven't closed the blinds so we see that Harry is certainly not in any compartment we pass.

We come to stop when we run into Dean and Neville who are standing by a compartment with blinds down and door opened in a gap and looking inside with strange expressions on their faces.

"Hiya, mates," Ron greets them and their heads snap up, they are both visibly startled.

"Whoo, Ron, it's you," Dean lets out a relieved breath. For some reason he's whispering.

"What is happening here?" I demand. God, but I sound like McGonagall and I am at least four times younger than she… well I didn't mean it to come out like that. But when I have spent last eight years with Harry and Ron who would never have done any homework if I weren't pestering them. I must admit that I have developed a bad bossy-ing habit.

I look at Neville questioningly. He looks a bit pale.

"Well, look for yourself," Dean makes a face.

I push them aside and look through the gap. What I see is Harry with Malfoy sitting in his lap and they are… Oh, they are **so** making out.

"That's not a boggart, right? If this wasn't the train, I would have thought it was, but who would have brought a boggart on the train," Dean looks terribly uncomfortable.

"No, it's not a boggart. It's a nightmare," Ron scoffs. Then he pushes the door open: "Oi, Harry, cut it out!"

They both look at us looking a bit embarrassed and guilty. Malfoy slides off Harry's lap. He is dishevelled and with his pale complexion his cheeks bloom like roses and lips look a bit bruised.

"Hello, Harry, Malfoy," I greet them giving both a bit of a stern look for their display. Honestly! Is this the place and the time?

"Hello, everyone!" Harry greets us. Malfoy just nods his face shifting in that aloof, superior expression. Apparently, he has pulled his act together.

"Harry, don't you have something to tell us?" Dean crosses arms over his chest looking from Harry to Draco.

Harry kind of smiles and then announces that he and Draco are together. As a couple.

I watch both our friends and their reaction. Neville's eyes have gotten very round and large and he looks terrified and very unsure.

Dean whistles: "That's somewhat unexpected." But he is taking it rather well. But that's Dean Thomas for you, he's admirably calm and self-possessed.

Then Malfoy rolls his eyes. "You don't have to pretend that you like me or me being with Potter," he announces. "And I will not be pretending that I like you. Deal?"

"Good idea, Ferret Face!" Ron agrees.

"You are welcome Weasel," Draco smirks.

"No, it's not a good idea," Harry interrupts before I can. "I don't want to spend my time at Hogwarts listening to you both bickering as if you were still eleven."

I am proud of him. That's it, don't you dare to give in to Malfoy, Harry.

"Don't worry, Harry, I will be perfectly civil to everyone" Malfoy turns towards Harry and gives him so sickeningly sweet smile that I am tempted to make a gagging sound. And what is even more disturbing it's apparently working, I can see Harry's posture loosening and his expression softening… Oh, for… I can't believe that Harry is falling for it! The git is batting eyelashes like a bloody girl! Like some Lavender Brown wannabe!

I have always despised people who are using their looks and charms in such way. And to see Draco Malfoy of all people twisting my best friend round his little finger! I want to strangle him like never before!

Then Harry's smile grows wider. He takes Draco's chin between his thumb and forefinger and smiling at the blonde as sweetly says: "But, darling, I know that you can be very much insulting under pretence of perfect civility."

Oh… I guess Harry is not so blindly smitten after all. But I think that any kind of close relationship with Malfoy could be a disaster for someone who doesn't know how to hold their own. But Harry has always been adventurous. Maybe both of them together make sense after all. Well, he certainly can keep up with Malfoy.

Now Malfoy is pouting, apparently a bit sore that his attempt to manipulate Harry has failed, but mellows as soon as Harry's hand disappears somewhere behind his back. God, but they are going to be all over each other like this all the time, aren't they? I am ready to bet they are.

It's so strange. I mean, I am open-minded. I think I am very open-minded in fact, but I have never really known anyone who is gay. I know of them, but not any real gay people. Ok, there was Andy, one of mum's friends. I have met him only a couple of times, but I have never seen him cuddling with another man. And now Harry and Malfoy. It's very… I don't even know.

Have to stop staring at them.

"So," Harry finally announces. "The fact is that Draco and I, we are together. However, I would not like to loose any friends because of that. I don't want to choose between my lover and friends."

Everyone's silent for a moment.

Then Dean nods simply and curtly, Neville shrugs, Ron looks irritated, but resigned. I think we have established that there will be no split-up.

I am relieved. We have lost so much already, so many friends, we can't afford loosing more.

The train ride is long and many people we know stop by. And their reactions vary, but no one is too pleased. Some are surprise and look at Harry with disbelieve. Others are suspicious of Draco and the hostility is undeniable no matter how hard they are trying to hide it. I am almost ready to admit that Draco Malfoy's most serious crime is his terrible personality and stupidity and Harry is right – he has been a victim of circumstances under which, of course, he could have still made better choices, but not everyone can be a hero.

But I think for the most of the Wizarding World Malfoy's biggest crime is being Lucius' son. And very soon they will probably want to see him suffer for ensnaring Harry Potter. I can imagine most feeling it awfully unfair that he gets away with being on the wrong side of the war and then gets the 'prince charming' of this fairy tale. They are going to hate him.

I don't need any veela senses to smell the trouble coming our way.

The only one who is truly happy for Harry and Draco is Luna. She even hugs them both; (I love to see Malfoys expression when she does it). None of those who obviously are unhappy with Harry's choice of lover dare to say or do anything. Probably waiting for a good moment to stab them in the back. I regret that I have to admit it, but I know how some of them are. Harry is one of their celebrities and while they appear to be in such awe of him, they would love to hate him.

Cowards. They should know better, because there is always me and there is Ron watching Harry's back.

I think everyone is relieved when the train finally approaches Hogsmeade and we can busy ourselves with putting on the school robes. The atmosphere has been just awkward. But truly? Who can expect us to get all chummy and comfortable around Malfoy straight away? It's going to take time.

Four of us share a carriage and I wonder if there is anyone above fifth year who doesn't see the thestrals…

We walk towards the school. Harry and Malfoy stay as close to each other as possible without actually holding hands. I think I make a face; similar to the expression, which Ron has been wearing since we met Harry and Malfoy on the train. It's just disturbing to see them so sweet together. It's like there is some invisible bonds tying one to another. It is impossible to miss or dismiss the intimacy or closeness they share.

Ron and I, we were the same when we just got together, I am just wondering if Harry found it as disturbing as it is for me watching them. Is it because they are male couple? I don't want to think that I am finding it strange to see their closeness because they are both men. I like to think that I am above such prejudice. But am I?

Logic says that the sooner I accept the situation, the easier my life is going to be and that it is wrong to hold someone's sexuality against them. I mean I am not backwards like that… but

As we enter the Great Hall, I can't help but notice that a lot of other students are giving us a wide berth. I assume, because of who Harry is and because of Draco Malfoy by his side, of course. We always laugh about all the nonsense "The Daily Prophet" is making up, but it is unwise to forget that the rest of the world might take it seriously enough and there has been so much slur in the paper since Malfoy's trial.

And the latest piece of fiction – Draco Malfoy seen with Harry Potter imposer – ridiculous if you ask me.

However, seeing them together here now, people are certainly wondering. And they are walking so close together. But they won't be wondering for long; Harry has announced that they are together to everyone who stopped by our compartment, so by the end of the opening fest it will be all over school and tomorrow morning we will probably find out what is Skeeter's take on all of this. Since she had registered as an animagi the woman's viciousness has increased twice.

There are four tables as usually. Harry and Draco stop, Harry says him that they could sit together at the Gryffindor table. Malfoy shakes his head. He is looking over at the Slytherins and I see that a girl and a boy… no, a young woman and a young man are standing and the man is waving at him. It's Parkinson! And Zabini!

And why am I so surprised and almost excited?

Silly, but I guess I am glad for every little bit that hasn't been destroyed by the war, even for Pansy Parkinson, the nasty girl she has always been.

"He is going to be alright," I put a hand on Harry's arm and after some intense staring at Draco (it nearly looks like they are telepathically linked and communicating in their thoughts), Harry nods and Malfoy is allowed to sit with his own housemates.

Oh, Harry, honestly…

We sit with our year. It works for Harry, since our group moulds closely around him, sheltering him from at least some of the curious gawkers.

Everything as usually starts with the sorting of the first years and I can't miss that there are less of them than when we started Hogwarts. When McGonagall stands up to say the speech and introduces us to the professors, I glance at Harry. He looks incredibly sad for a moment and I wonder once again what he really feels about professor Dumbledore and everything that happened. I do realise that all was not as simple. For most Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore are heroes. Voldemort and his Death Eaters, the villains. I am afraid they haven't even leaned their lesson and continue to be set in their prejudiced ways with the only difference that different kind of prejudice is allowed these days… but sometimes I think that maybe Harry is more of a victim than a hero in this--

"--it is also my pleasure to announce that Professor Severus Snape has returned to his post and will teach Defence Against the Dark Arts."

That's a surprise. I wouldn't want to be disrespectful, but I would have thought that professor Snape would never return to teaching. Honestly, it does seem that he hates children.

"Have a good meal," headmistress McGonagall has finally finished. She snaps her fingers and food starts appearing on the tables. I can't help, but think of the poor house elves who have cooked all of this… but I look around at my house mates and decide not to say anything, seeing them attacking the food vigorously. I don't think any of them would be in a mood to listen. And it has been a long day, and I am not sure if I am in a mood to speak, I hope the elves will forgive me tonight.

Next to me Harry just can't sit still, he keeps fidgeting and looking at Malfoy. No, really! How will they manage school if he can't let the lover boy out of his sight for duration of a meal?

After everyone has finished eating, the students are ordered to follow the prefects to their dormitories, except the 'older' students. Well, what would be the proper term – the war veterans? God, I sound bitter. But sometimes I think that it's terribly unfair that children…

"Alright," headmistress McGonagall clears her throat. "First, I am glad to see so many of us here who are willing to finish their education. But since there are so many of you and considering the significant age difference, it won't be possible to place you with your houses. For that reason we have opened the apprentice quarters for your use. You will be sharing rooms according to your gender and house affiliation. Your classes will be held separately from regular students. We all are grateful to professor Snape who has agreed to instruct you in both potions and defence."

Two classes with Snape, the boys are going to love it…

"During the meals you can join your respective houses. I am warning you that it's still required that you obey the school rules. Failure to do that will result in loss of house points and detention. Since all of you are of age, you are allowed to leave school premises after classes, we can't prohibit you to that. But I would like to use this privilege with consideration and conduct yourselves as responsible adults you are. If anyone has any questions, you can approach me or the heads of your houses."

With that she is finished and the current Head Girl Gryffindor sixth year Trudy Shamrock and Hufflepuff seventh year Owen Cauldwell are waiting for us to walk us to our new tower.

Harry instantly moulds himself into Malfoy's side and we follow our guides.

There was a passage about the apprentice tower in the 'Hogwarts: The History'. It was used when a lot of professors took apprentices to train them. It was during the times when, for example, St. Mungo's wasn't opened yet and if someone wanted to train as a mediwizard they had to find a master who could teach them. And Hogwarts has always had the best professors, so there apparently were many witches and wizards who wanted to become their apprentices.

That's what I tell Ron, but I have a feeling that he's only pretending to be listening, but actually is trying desperately to overheard what Dean and Ernie Macmillan are talking about Quidditch. Sometimes I really wonder why we are together when we have so little in common.

But on the other hand, I don't think I could stand to be with someone like me for life. Why would I need another bookworm? Ron is smart too, just not in the same way as me. I think we compliment each other nicely.

I watch Harry and Malfoy out of the corner of my eye. They don't look too happy. I wonder, why.

**Draco's POV**

The Slytherin table looked like a comb with missing teeth during the fest with so many empty spaces, so many students refusing to sit by each other. From my year there was only Pansy and Blaise whom I was deliriously glad to see, but of course, took care to hide. We exchanged polite phrases in silent agreement to talk more later, preferably somewhere with less people, who could overhear us, around. One never knows who is listening.

During the sorting and the meal, we exchanged several significant looks. Of course all of us three noticed how unhappy the first years that were sorted in the Slytherin were. Of course pansy and Blaise looked disappointed when McGonagall announced that Slughorn would remain the head of our house, even after Snape's return.

I hope I managed to school my expression into an appropriate scowl my own, despite I had no idea how exactly I should feel about Severus being here.

When I looked around the table, I came to realisation that I didn't really know who was who here. Some of the students had been too young to really matter and express any opinion and there was no way to tell where they stood. Besides, even those who one thinks he knows very well can surprise one in a very unpleasant way. I wasn't eager to return to the tower and face the power struggles that would most certainly ensue. Too much uncertainty.

Some of them were already watching me, evaluating. I was a bit disgusted by the lack of subtlety I noticed. I decided that maybe it was good that Severus was no longer the head of our house; it would be a shame if he were responsible for this brood.

But did it matter? Did Severus want anything to do with me? I was afraid to even look at him, to meet his eyes. I wish he wasn't here, it had made things easier. I didn't want to run into him in the hall and see him sneering down on me, I didn't want him to call me out at the potions and humiliate the same way he used to belittle Harry. I didn't want him to hate me. When I didn't see him, I could pretend that he didn't hate me, but now…

We are all following the Head girl and the Head boy to our new rooms and Harry is obviously sensing my unease. But I can't stop thinking of Severus. He has always been one of the rare people I have ever trusted and then. I refuse, I don't want to think about it, it's too… and now he is going to be my professor again.

I don't really know how that will go, I guess I will see when the first Potions lesson comes.

I will be sharing room with Blaise since there are only two of us, Slytherins who has returned. The rest of the survivors have probably gone to Durmstrang or even Beubaxtons, which is probably not a bad idea.

As most of the other students go inside their rooms to explore Potter and I remain behind in the hall. He looks like he will have a seizure of some sorts any moment from now.

"We will manage," I tell him with confidence I don't actually feel. We will have to though.

"What's that Blaise like?" He asks then.

"Are you jealous already," I smirk.

He raises an eyebrow: "Jealous? I wanted to know if he was trustworthy. Do I have a reason to be jealous?"

"Not while you keep me happy, dear," I am a bit upset that he outsmarted me and turned around what I said. But then I am a little proud too. Potter **is** smarter than he looks. "But seriously Harry, I will be fine and Blaise is alright. Go to your friends now. Talk about Quidditch or whatever. I have my own catching up to do."

He looks like he is about to turn around and go when he suddenly grabs me by the front of my robe and kisses me. Hard.

When I close the door of the room behind me I am still in a bit of a daze and somewhat breathless.

Blaise and Pansy are already sitting on one of the beds both grinning like idiots. I sit (or rather fall) down on the opposite bed.

"So," I start. "How have you been?"

"In hiding, Italy," Blaise states and I nod. He has a lot of relatives there.

"The same, only South Africa," Pansy says.

"We wanted to come to your trial, but weren't sure if that was wise," Blaise smiles sadly.

"I am glad you didn't," too many witnessed my humiliation already.

"How was it?" Blaise asks next, refusing to meet my eyes. I know exactly what he means. He is asking how it was to be a Death Eater or being with them, the same thing for me really.

"Terrible,"

Blaise nods as if I had just confirmed something he had already known very well. Which was probably true.

Pansy walks over and hugs me. I put my hand on her back rubbing it reassuringly. It's surprisingly comforting.

"Let's change the topic," I suggest.

We are Slytherins. I won't cry on their shoulder, because I have nothing to cry about, I am here, alive. I survived. I will not call them cowards and blame them for running away, because I wish I were in their place.

"Of course, Draco," Pansy lets go of me. She smirks as Blaise levitates a bottle of vine and three glasses (not goblets) out of his trunk; he spells the bottle open and pours into the glasses. Pansy tears the lid off a huge, golden box of chocolate cowered cherries.

"Tell me Draco," Blaise asks handing me one of the glasses with a mischievous glint in his almond shaped brown eyes. "What is the deal with you and Potter?"

I know this has been coming, and I am not going to hide anything or lie, but I want to be difficult about it out of sheer spite: "And what should be there with me and Potter?"

"Oh, _caro _don't give me that! You walk in the Great Hall practically holding hands and you then keep shooting those bizarre looks at each other all the time during the fest. Then he walks you to the dorms and whispers on your ear. What is happening Draco?" Now Blaise looks a bit worried.

I must admit that I have not expected that.

"If he is threatening you with something you have to tell us, we will help you Draco!" Pansy suddenly bursts out.

I look at them stunned for a couple of seconds before burst out laughing.

"What's so funny, Malfoy?" Pansy asks crossly.

I take a deep breath to calm myself down: "That you think Potter is doing something bad to me."

"And what do you want us to think! We worry about you!" The woman is indignant.

I feel almost sorry for being a prick: "Me and Potter, we have kind of reconciled."

Which is technically true. I just don't want to drop the whole truth over their heads just like that. I want to make them beg for it.

While I am trying to find the right words Blaise's eyes suddenly widen: "Draco! You… you… you are screwing him!"

I make a face – trust Zabini to put it so… I had already forgotten that he could be so crude.

"You are!" Pansy sounds accusing.

Oh, apparently it's written all over my face.

I don't quite want to agree with the term Blaise used though: "Something like that."

"So, Malfoy, you guard your cherry as close as your wand and in the end Potter gets it, that's **soo** disturbing," Blaise snorts. "Oh, look, he's blushing, isn't that cute! Potter must not be doing it properly if our little dragon still can blush."

Oh, for…

"I am not blushing; you are seriously pissing me off! He is rich, famous, good looking and the most desirable bachelor of this year. I don't see anything wrong with my choice!"

"Oh, come on, you know that's just a load of dragon dung. The real Potter is a goody-goody and a Gryffindor…"

"You, Zabini, have no idea what's the real Potter is like and will never have a chance to find out and I assure you for that I pity you. Best here are a lot of advantages to having a petGgryffindor."

"Of course you would say so,"

"Why don't you get yourself one, and then talk," I smirk at him, trying to make the conversation lighter. I can feel that are a bit rankled ad can't decide what to make of this.

"I am so not doing the Weasel," Blaise chirps.

I make an appropriately disgusted face: "I take back all the good things that I have ever said about you; you are a very sick wizard Blaise Zabini!"

"I don't believe you have anything to take back, because I don't remember you ever saying anything good about me, Malfoy,"

"Oh, well… Must be because I couldn't think about anything!"

We laugh and then sip on our wine in silence.

"But seriously, Draco, why?" Pansy still hasn't lost that concerned look.

I sigh, what can I tell them? "What do you want me to tell you? It just happened."

"How could 'it' just happen? Last time I saw you, you fucking hated Potter and he fucking hated you!" Pansy stands up, hands on her hips, looking like some kind of fierce lioness, wanting to protect me. "And now you are fucking!"

I wince. Too crude. And I don't need protection from her. I have Potter. He is the one who will protect me. The one whom I trust. How dares she demanding answers of me!

"A lot has changed since then. You weren't there! No one was there!"

Not really, even father was not really there for me. He would sacrifice me for himself or his Lord any time. Mother was never really there, she was as weak as I. And it turns out that Severus as well was not the person I thought he was.

"Then Potter was," Harry, he loves me. He is strong, but he isn't selfish. What he asks I can give willingly. With great pleasure, actually. He will never ask me to do things I don't want to, he will never demand mindless obedience, and he will never intentionally abuse the power he has over me. He accepts me as I am and will never demand me to change for him. He loves me unconditionally. I trust him.

Of course there was that misunderstanding in the beginning, but I am trying to forget it, it doesn't matter. I trust him now.

"Pansy, calm down," Blaise gently interrupts our glaring contest. "Potter can't be that bad, eh? Our hero, saved everyone in the end didn't he?" He ads lightly. The boy has always been so damn… mental.

"Tell me he didn't force you into anything, Draco?" Pansy has calmed down, but that doesn't mean that she will let go. The woman has always been so damn hysterical. When she was pretending to be my girlfriend, we were always shouting and throwing things and hexes at each other…

"Of course he didn't force me," technically I am lying, but let's leave technicalities to the petty and small-minded.

She still looks dubious and I decide that I treasure my peace more than my dignity at the moment: "I am happy, Pansy. He is what I want," there, happy?

"Pansy, lay off him," Blaise pops a chocolate covered cherry in his mouth. "Potter has grown up nicely. I can understand Draco. Had I known that Potter swung that way…" he trails of wistfully.

We both ignore the lecher. I kind of like Blaise and kind of hate him as well. Can never decide to hug or throttle the guy.

"So," Blaise continues with a leer. "What is The-Boy-Who-Lived like?"

"He can cook food," I offer.

"Fuck, Draco," Pansy rolls her eyes. "We don't care if he can cook. House elves can cook too. You haven't change much, have you? Still thinking that Mommy and Daddy mixed you up from potions ingredients?"

My cheeks burn up a bit. That was so traumatised, when I finally found out that I had been misinformed. I was a very sheltered child.

"Shut up, Pansy," they both snicker. Traitors.

"We want to know what he's like in bed, honey," she clarifies in a patronising intonation.

They have always made fun of my 'innocence' and the fact that I have never been comfortable discussing some things and found the way they talk inappropriate.

And I didn't even think about snogging some girl in a broom closet or anything like that. First of all, I wouldn't want to go in a dusty, dank closet for any reason and then exchanging my saliva with another person… I thought it was disgusting. How could I know if she brushed her teeth often enough?

Besides, girls didn't really attract me, I might know why now, but back then I didn't even consider snogging a boy. It was unthinkable. I was supposed to marry a witch and beget an heir…

But now I am not going to give them the satisfaction of embarrassing me now: "What do you think? Of course he is good in bed. You have seen how he flies his broom or fights? Then you should have an idea." I smirk, hoping that it won't morph into a sappy smile.

Pansy giggles: "A Gryffindor lion, isn't he?"

"Quite," I confirm proudly.

Pansy chuckles then.

"What?" What now?

"Sorry, Draco, I shouldn't have doubted your relationship with Potter. But now when I see that sappy smile on your face…"

She doesn't have a chance to finish, because I throw a pillow at the witch.

"Here have another candy Draco!"

We stay up late and chat about everything that comes in our mind. But we never mention Vince and Greg and many other topics.

Later Blaise is snoring net to me, the lucky bastard. Almost like the old times. Only there's only two of us.

Overall the night is terrible. Just terrible. I can't get to sleep at first. Usually after drinking some wine I nod of easily, but not tonight. I am tired, I feel like I am about to… but nothing happens. I think about Harry. What is he doing, is he sleeping, could I maybe sneak out and…

And what? Sneak in the Gryffindor room? Like some needy little thing that can't sleep in his own bed for one night without his large Potter-shaped teddy bear?

Now that would be pathetic.

I have felt miserable and pathetic enough lately and I am afraid that there will be no recovering for my dignity if I ad this.

I grit my teeth and stay in the bed, I hope that maybe I will manage get at least a couple of hours of sleep before the classes start.

TBC

A/N: Thank you, guys, for reading and for rewieving (those who did and will). I had a bit of trouble, because the site was acting funny, so I did update first on the other sites which I am using, but the story is finally here.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author**: TheSiner

**Title**: Unconditionally - continued

**Genre**: Drama, Romance.

**Pairing**: Harry/Draco (main), Ron/Hermione

**Summary**: HP/DM slash. Sequel to **Unconditionally** Draco and Harry are happy together, but others have hard time accepting it.

**Rating**: depends on which site you are on

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates.

**Warnings**: slash (duh!), swearing, character death mentioned, sex, dubious consent, some fluff. Not beta-edited, won't make sense if you don't read the first story.

**Setting**: after Voldemort' demise. Kind of HBP compliant. But ignores DH.

* * *

4.

**Harry's POV**

It's about time to wake up, but I have hardly closed my eyes. I can only envy my roommates, who are still snoring in their beds. Ron rather loudly.

It is painfully obvious that I am not going to get any sleep, so I get up and drag myself to the bathroom. I think it will be some time before those three will wake, so I think that I have enough time for a wank before they hit the showers. Or I could simply clean up and find Draco…

Fuck, thinking about Draco all night long is what got me here. I am so fucking horny and there are dark circles under my eyes if one knows what to look for. I want Draco… well, but if I went and found him, where would we go then? Find a broom closet? Doesn't sound too great.

But, I might just be desperate enough….

Merlin! I am so used to being with Draco. I am used to falling asleep every night after making love to him for at least once. I am used to waking him up to make love to him every morning or him waking up me for the same reason. Or waking up and finding out that we have been making love for some time already. It's our little competition – to get the other off without waking him up. None of us have managed so far, but, hey, it's a lot of fun on both sides.

I really hope that we will work something out. It's not only that I want to be close to him. It's not only that I want his body. I also need to see that he is alright, safe. I know that not everyone here likes him and I am concerned that someone might want to hurt him. It is driving me crazy. I was so worried all the time last night that I had to remind myself all the time that Draco is in his room with Zabini whom he trusts and he has a wand and no one will dare to attack him in the castle… oh, whom am I kidding, like I have never been attacked here. Hah! I have been attacked by my professors. With Dumbledore still around.

How could I not be worried?

And what can I do?

I guess I am lucky that we didn't have to return to our original houses. I can't imagine being in the Gryffindor tower while he is in dungeons.

After I shower and dress I go to the common room, sink into the cushy couch and wait, listening to the sounds of Hogwarts, which I have never noticed before.

Fifteen minutes later the first students start leaving for the Great Hall. All of them greet me, some ask me to come with them, but I decline without a second thought. Some obviously are trying hard to hide their dislike. Like Zacharias Smith. No, on the other hand, he's not really hiding it. The git. What have I ever done to him?

He and Justin Finch-Fletchley are the only Hufflepuffs who didn't finish the school when they were supposed to though. They fought. I respect Smith for that. Unfortunately, it doesn't make him les of a prick.

Then finally, Draco enters the common room. Finally! I stand up grinning like an idiot. Draco is trying not to smile and I am trying not to run to him like a love sick puppy. But then I am standing next to him at last, I am inhaling his delightful scent, touching his beautiful, soft hair. Hungrily kissing his heavenly soft lips…

Then someone clears their throat and Draco's hands, which have been lying on my chest so far, gently push me away. I groan in frustration.

"We are not alone, Potter,"

Who cares if we are not alone! The only thing I truly care of when Draco's--

Alright, Draco obviously does care. He is even calling me 'Potter'.

When I manage to tear my eyes away from Draco's beautiful… beautiful everything, I notice that we are really not alone. There is Ron, Hermione, Parkinson, Zabini, Dean and Neville. Why do they look so surprised? They all know that Draco and I are together. Ah, kissing, they have never seen us kiss.

What did you expect guys?

We are together, of course we are going to snog. I have seen Ron and Hermione going at it many times (too many times – it's time for some payback, I think).

But, anyway, there is no reason to look so freaked out.

"That was hot!" Zabini is the first one to break the stunned silence.

Draco is definitely embarrassed to be caught judging by the pink spots adorning his cheeks. The look suits him. It is an added bonus to getting some action.

"Yes, well," Hermione shifts apparently uncomfortable. "We should go before the breakfast is over."

I don't point out that actually we have plenty of time.

It's amusing, how Draco straightens his robe and is the first who hurries out of the common room, looking still flustered. I follow him and I can hear footsteps behind me as the others come after us. But I don't really care as I am chasing after Draco. What is the matter with him?

I catch up easily. I want to touch him.

"Are you alright Draco?"

He doesn't answer at first as we keep walking. He is looking down as if looking for answers in the intricate pattern the flagstones are making under our feet. I see that I have never paid them much attention to many things. Well, I have realised that there are a lot of things I have never paid much attention since my senses have received a boost.

I thought that I knew Hogwarts as well as my pocket. Especially with all the nightly explorations and the Map. But I was wrong. I have missed a lot. Like, the intricate flagstone pattern, for example.

"I don't know, if I am alright," Draco interrupts my musings. "I am not comfortable with people seeing me… you know…"

Ah. Well I know how self-conscious Draco actually is and not in a way I am. I just hate people who fawn over me, get really annoyed, but can't quite bring myself to tell them to bugger off. Draco… well with Draco it's more complicated.

"Sorry, Draco, I will try not to grope you in public," I promise trying to sound like I mean it. "It will not be easy though."

"I don't mind you groping me, Potter," Draco sneers. "I mind people being around when you do it and gawking. I wish they weren't."

This is the Draco I know – expecting everyone to change their behaviour to suit him. Once upon a time, I thought his arrogance was disgusting, now I think it's kind of cute, because I know that Draco doesn't really expect everything to happen as he wants, he just wouldn't mind if it did. He's just pushy.

"We can't do anything about that," I say because I feel I have to say something, no matter if it's pointless.

"I know," he grumbles. "I was just used to… you know."

Yes, I do, the summer that we spent together was the greatest in my life.

"Do you think there will be something about us in 'The Prophet'?"

"Who knows? We will see. But sooner or later they will write something. It s inevitable, right?"

Merlin, but I do hate those bastards.

I am worried about the reaction to our relationship mostly because I know that they will blame Draco for everything that they'll find wrong with it. And they will find something wrong, I have no doubt. They will call Draco names and make up lies about him. We have talked about it.

"_I have no reputation anyway. It's you who has __a lot to loose."_ He said.

I disagree. I don't care if my fans will not send me marriage proposals, spiked chocolates and their underwear anymore. I said I'll ride Draco's trunk if would ever feel like sniffing some panties, thank you very much.

At first Draco's eyes widened and mouth hung open. Then his face went through several hues of red; Draco hit me on arm, spluttered and called me a 'pervert'. It was so damn funny!

I said that maybe we should try improving public opinion of him letting everyone know what a prude the Big Bad Malfoy actually was. He was glaring at me, but it was very funny, because Draco was also trying not to laugh at the same time… well, but the conversation didn't really resolve anything.

We keep walking towards the Great Hall side by side. I want to hold his hand; I want to have his skin under mine, because (no matter how corny that sounds), it sings to me and because I don't think I will ever have enough. However I will behave. Because he asked me to.

I understand, why he is uncomfortable, I understand that he is afraid to look vulnerable in their eyes.

And at the moment it wouldn't make me comfortable too, because it's like every eye is on us when we enter the Great Hall. It only makes me want to keep Draco closer to me.

"Get lives people," I hear Parkinson mutter.

I bite my lip to stop myself from saying anything when he glances at me and then follows Parkinson and Zabini to the Slytherin table.

I am not sure if I can trust those two with Draco. He is my whole life.

Ouch!

Hermione grabs me by the ear and turns my head so I am looking at our table instead of Draco.

"Eat," she orders. Someone has already piled bacon, eggs and baked beans on my plate. I grudgingly thank her.

It's good that I still eat fast (not that Draco hasn't been trying to correct that), because the arrival of the post owls totally ruins my appetite. They carry latest issues of 'Prophet' and I can see the headlines even before the owls drop them.

'Look Out for Draco Does Pardoned Death Eater Want With Harry Potter.'

I wish I had never subscribed the rag, but Draco insisted that we should be informed. I just hate the idea that I am funding this, this… gah!

And, look! They have filled the three first pages with Draco and me. And, what a surprise, they have gotten it all wrong.

I am not sure if I should start laughing or burst into tears.

The whole article is made up of speculations on why I could be seen in public with Draco Malfoy. The most popular is the one where I am assigned by the Ministry to keep an eye on a Death Eater who got away until he does something evil and they can ship him off to Azkaban (where he belongs).

I think I will blow up the breakfast table… no, no blowing, must take a deep breath…

Oh, and they think it's unwise to allow him be that close to me. They are encouraging people to watch Draco and look out for me.

I can't believe this.

Without saying a word, I pass the paper to Dean, who's been craning his neck to see it.

I turn to look at the Slytherin table trying to catch Draco's eye and somehow let him know that I am terribly sorry. I can handle this. It's not the first time 'The Prophet' had spouted lies about me. But I don't want this hurting him.

Draco looks up and our eyes meet. Then he looks away, his mouth set in a hard, firm line. It's as if someone has stabbed my heart.

"Bastards," Ron says and pats my back comfortingly.

Someone's shoes are clicking against the stone floor.

The new Defence Against Dark Arts professor coming our way. She is handing out our schedules. McGonagall obviously didn't have much choice if she made the DADA professor the head of Gryffindor too. True, the curse on that post is supposed to be gone. But who knows for sure? I guess we will see by the end of the year.

The witch looks very plain. Her age might be somewhere between forty and sixty, (one never knows with magical people). With boring grey eyes (in comparison to Draco's quicksilver orbs) and ash blond hair and no prominent features she's so usual, it's almost fascinating.

"Mister Potter," the witch offers her hand. "As you might already know, I am Enid Forester."

I smile at her politely and shake her hand.

"Even if you are in the remedial class, you are still one of my Gryffindors, Potter, so you should know that my doors are open if you need anything."

I thank her, of course, but can't help being annoyed that I have been singled out. While she is obviously trying to channel McGonagall and act all strict and aloof (not like a regular fawning fan of mine), I wonder why I am the only one who receives such personal attention. And talking about fans - out of the corner of my eye I see Slughorn looking at me almost hungrily. I think I should start avoiding him unless I want to become the vice-president of the Slug Club.

_**Slug**_ Club – god, but it's even worse than S.P.E.W. Who'd want to become a slug?

"And this is your schedule Mr. Potter. You will be continuing with the same classes you were taking in your Sixth year. Of course, Professor Snape usually doesn't accept students except those who got 'Outstanding' in their OWLs, but don't worry, since he is taking over Professor Slughorn's class you are still on. I am sorry that I will not have pleasure to have you in my defence class."

Well, I'd rather had her than Snape too. I bet he's as 'happy' to teach me and Ron again as we are to learn, it would be amusing, if he wasn't bound to take out his irritation on me. I can tell by the looks that Snape has been giving me, that it's not going to change. I wonder why he's here, teaching only two classes to us. I would have thought he'd want nothing to do with dunderheads…

So it's DADA Charms, Transfiguration, Potions and Herbology for me. I will share some classes with Draco. He isn't taking Herbology, because it's _'too easy_' and he isn't going to waste his time. Instead he has both Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.

I was itching to point out that he had a lot in common with Hermione, when Draco told me that, but, hey, sacrifices must be made for sake of good relationship.

Speaking about relationship… Draco has finished his breakfast, so I mumble to Ron and Hermione that I will meet them in the class and nothing will keep me from walking Draco there. I am wondering how much time it will take before the wizarding world will realise that I am not trailing him, because I want to hex him from behind.

We sit next each to other in Charms and Transfiguration thigh to thigh, our elbows bumping seemingly on accident. It's a bit of a torture, for me even more, because not only I have to suffer being aroused, I can smell his interest as well. But we haven't been together for more than twenty four hours now. Talk about distracting.

After Transfiguration we have a free period. I glance at Draco and I think that for once we understand each other perfectly without words. As soon as McGonagall announces that we are dismissed Draco flicks his wand performing some kind of fancy charm the kind purebloods teach their children so they don't have to do anything the muggle way (show offs), but this time I am grateful, because our things pack themselves into our bags before anyone else has even touched theirs and we are out of the door pretending that we don't hear Ron calling after me.

I grab his hand and we run down the corridor towards the Gryffindor tower where I know is at least three empty classrooms. I try the first door and it's open. I am pressing him against the door and non-verbally casting a locking charm while trying to kiss the living daylights out of him.

I push my hands down his pants and squeeze the little, pert bottom, pulling him closer to me so we can grind our cocks together.

"Potter," he whimpers as I found that special spot on his neck. Draco's long fingered, agile hands clumsily start working on my belt. I could spell it away, hell, I could spell our trousers and pants off any time, but I find it strangely erotic when he's unbuckling me, sometimes murmuring under his breath while he is impatiently struggling with the belt.

I must admit, he's getting better and better with every time. My trousers and boxers slide off and I reach for the sole button that's keeping up Draco's trousers. Funny, but he's wearing little, black tight fitting muggle-style shorts made of some kind of modern material I don't remember name of without seams. My little fashion whore. Doesn't even care if the new hit is muggle.

I peel off his underwear and our uncovered erections meat and we start grinding for real. Skin against hot skin, it doesn't take much for us to come as I am once again devouring his sweet mouth.

Draco slumps against me, his damp forehead resting against my shoulder. I spell away the mess we have created not moving a muscle, I don't want to ruin the moment. We stay for some time just like that – still, in each other's arms, the only sound in the room our laboured breaths.

"It's getting chilly around my bits," Draco finally breaks the silence and I can't help, but chuckle. "See how you will be laughing when it will freeze, shrivel and fall off," he grumbles.

"Want me to hold it for you, my hands are very warm," I can't help it, I just have to offer.

"Oh, Harry Potter, you are so generous today!" Draco gushes theatrically as he's pulling on his trousers.

I stop him halfway, inserting my hand between his arse and shorts.

"We still have time before lunch and I missed you,"

He sighs: "I miss you too."

Our lips meet again and this time it is slow and throughout. It's getting reacquainted, it's coming home, it's doing something nice for each other, it's a promise and it's saying 'I love you,'… I still love you and want you and not going to stop. Ever.

**Draco's POV**

If I hadn't had experienced worse during the war I would be complaining. I would be whining about being treated as a child again, about having to get up before seven every morning, about having to put up with too many annoying people, about being forced to sneak around and snog my lover in the dusty broom closets and abandoned classrooms. The list goes on and on.

Of course, I am better than that, but it's very tempting to succumb to my inner Weasley and have a really good moan about amount of the homework we are assigned.

Wait a minute… my inner Weasley… eew! Did I really just think that?

It's proved – I am going mad. That I just had tried to sleep through the second night without Harry is not improving things, so it is no wonder that I am getting strange ideas.

Besides, I am getting more nervous with every passing minute. A toast and some tea is all I manage to get down. As much as I would have liked to stay in The Great Hall forever, the breakfast will be over soon and no amount of toying with food would change that. So I might as well admit that I am done and get going.

But I really don't want too...

Merlin, for the first time in my life I wish I could skip Potions. I could care less for showing off my superior brewing skills that have greatly improved during the time I spent in The Dark Lord's service.

The thing is that I can't face Severus. Or don't want to – really, what's the difference?

But it's not like I can walk up to McGonagall and tell her: 'Hey, I'd rather put up with Slughorn, even if he's totally incompetent, than learn from my former head of house. Why? Oh, it's nothing, just that he… he has a thing for me… if you can call it that…'

I really have no idea, what it is… was… whatever.

Minutes later I am standing outside the classroom with others from the remedial class who don't look any happier than me. It takes me some effort and restraint to keep myself from fidgeting and I find myself feeling like moving away from Potter whose presence I usually find calming.

Exactly one minute before the class starts the door bangs open.

"In!" The familiar voice bellows. I take a deep breath – not a calming one, but grasping and desperate.

I sit down at about the middle of the classroom and Harry immediately gracelessly flops down next to me.

I don't dare to lift my eyes exactly, but I think, I can **feel **Snape sneering at us.

"So, let's see," his tone is dry as a piece of parchment, "to what extent your brewing skills have deteriorated. Not that it's possible to loose something one never had, which is talent in most of your cases…"

He looks at Harry with disdain as he says that.

"We will start with something that should be simple enough even with your level of incompetence. Blood replenishing potion. Instructions are on the board."

I used to love this class. Not even Granger could best me in this classroom. Besides during the Potions I heard more praise than in my whole life. I knew that it was not only for my benefit, but to annoy the Gryffindors as well. But still. Father was not known for his generosity with compliments and somehow I always managed to disappoint him, no matter how hard I was trying.

But then I went to Hogwarts. Father was complaining about Dumbledore and threatening to send me to Durmstang, but I doubt he ever really meant it. Of course then I didn't know it then. It gave him one more thing to threaten me with in case I failed to live up to his expectations.

I almost fainted, when a month before the first of September father announced that I would attend Hogwarts after all. I was so excited.

Severus Snape had a part of my excitement. I knew him before, because he used to visit Lucius. He always spoke to me kindly, even brought little presents which were usually something practical and potion-related. I knew he was the head of Slytherin, my future house. I thought he was impressive. I quite adored the man in fact, since in his own austere way he was much kinder to me than my own father was. Snape was much more predictable and his expectations were possible to meet.

And then my idol was suddenly praising me while scorning others. Especially Potter. Not much of a surprise that I loved the Potions.

Now the class is almost unbearable for me. Severus isn't even looking at me. He is treating me… well, he is not treating me like anything. It's as if I am not even there. He isn't suddenly glaring, sneering, barking at me as if I were a Gryffindor; he's just ignoring me, which is almost worse.

My potion is perfect. Even my inner turmoil doesn't affect my brewing. I am used to that. I had to learn working in such circumstances very fast. After you get _crucioed_ for messing up a couple of times, you don't make mistakes, no matter how much your hands are shaking, no matter how sore you are, or how little sleep you had gotten the night before.

Potter's shoulder bumps into mine.

Well, his potion is… almost there. The colour is off, but it smells right. Of course, that earns him only a sneer and a derogatory remark about his lack of intelligence from Snape, which Harry only answers with a polite 'yes sir'.

I am proud. He is growing up, my Harry.

I am so relieved to leave the class. Of course, I will have Defence Against the Dark Arts tomorrow, but at least I know what to expect. To be ignored.

Blaise is giving me a weird look. I pretend to see nothing. I know he must have noticed Severus' coldness towards me and is curious now. But I am not going to talk to him about that. No one can know what happened between Severus and I.

Then I feel fingers brush against mine. And again. I look at Potter with a raised eyebrow. He has that terribly cute and a bit desperate expression on his face and looks like he is trying very hard not to pout. I roll my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh and let him hook our fingers together as we are following Granger and Weasley towards the library.

Oh, well, let everyone see. It will come out sooner and later, wouldn't it?

Our being in relationship as such wouldn't be a big deal at all if he wasn't famous and I wasn't infamous. There are gay couples in our society, but they are not supposed to be visible. The public will be outraged. Potter is lucky that his friends are so accepting.

The first time I sit in the library with The Golden Trio goes marginally well. I still think that Granger is somewhat annoying; her all-it-knowingness is a bit overbearing. Yes, she is a smart witch, even if it pains me to admit that. But that doesn't mean that she has to prove it all the time. Oh, sure, she is very capable when it's necessary to get Weasel to shut up, but I am not sure how long the guy will put up with his girlfriend treating like a five year old.

Not that it's my problem.

It looks like she has handed supervising Potter's studying habits over to me. I don't mind. Occasionally I read over his Transfiguration essay and point out a couple of mistakes. The thing is that while he's probably way better than me in practical transfiguration, Harry obviously doesn't have patience for writing essays and doesn't care much about the origins of one spell or another or about how it works.

"You, know, Potter," I sigh. "I thought I will never see worse handwriting than Crabbe's, but here it is, making my eyes water."

Weasley snickers and Harry pouts.

"That's why I am not keen on handing out autographs," he announces and then it happens. Our first public kiss. Not much of a kiss, just a quick, light peck on lips.

"Harr-rry…" Weasley groans.

"Thank you for putting up with me and my scrawl," Potter says sweetly. "You wanted something, Ron?"

"For you to get a room?"

"Gee, Ron, I don't see you and Hermione ever getting a room for something as innocent as a kiss. Are you going to from now on? I'll have to owl your mother, she will be proud of having raised such a prude of a son,"

"Well, but…" Weasley splutters. "It's different!"

"How is it different?" Harry has narrowed his eye and doesn't look amused anymore.

"You… you are both… you know!"

"No, I don't," Harry says flatly and gets up starting gathering his things. I do the same.

"Harry… I didn't mean it like that…" Weasley tries.

"Yes, you did," Potters grabs my hand and drags me out of the library.

"I can't believe he said that," he mumbles.

I can't believe I am saying this: "Give him some slack. He will get used to it. Believe me, he is taking it well."

Harry doesn't notice some of the looks we get as we were leaving the library hand in hand.

"I guess I still expected more. He's my best friend, Draco."

I don't know what to say. I don't know Weasley that well, after all. But I still think that he took our relationship rather well. But Harry is obviously not ready to hear that right now.

***

I realise that the kneazle is out of the bag as soon as I step into the Great Hall the next morning. There are more stares and more whispers and strange looks than normal and 'The Daily Prophet' exchanging hands. Granger looks worried. Weasley really uncomfortable and when I glance at the head table, I see that McGonagall appears more constipated than usually.

I look at my lover and see that he has noticed as well. I am aware that he can probably hear some of the whispers. Veela senses and all. His grip on my arm tightens and I guess that I am not given much choice, but to follow him to the Gryffindor table. I should be annoyed, but I guess he's doing the right thing.

Majority of the Gryffindors are obviously not happy to see me. Except Thomas and Longbottom. Thomas is the most laid back guy I have ever met and Longbottom, well, Longbottom is too meek to really object to anything that doesn't concerns him directly. And he has a good sense of what concerns him and what doesn't, not like most of people. The guy really knows how to mind his own business, I'll give him that.

Harry reaches for the paper and Granger reluctantly hands it over.

THE BOY WHO LIVED TO BE TURNED GAY BY DRACO MALFOY!!!

I am starting to regret that we didn't do anything to control when and how the public finds out. The message is more than clear. 'Gayness' is a disease and their Hero had been maliciously infected with it by me.

I don't have a chance to really read the article, because Potter forcefully and demonstratively crumples it up, throws on the floor and casts a silent _incendio_ on it. the air around him starts feeling a bit different. Well, I haven't seen him this angry since before the war. I put a hand on his thigh when he sits down and squeeze.

He looks at me as if suddenly remembering where he is.

I give him a pointed look, trying to communicate that this is nor the place, nor the time to display any wandless magic.

He lets out a sigh then and it's obvious that some of the tense anger is gone.

"I can't believe those idiots," he grounds out though.

I decide not to say anything. I just don't know what I can say to that.

We eat the breakfast pretty much ignoring everyone around us. Potter is obviously still not alright with Weasley, the insensitive idiot. And I will die my hair carrot red, before I will admit it aloud, but I am hoping that they will make up soon, because it's obviously hurting Potter.

Granger looks like she is about to say something, but keeps biting her tongue. No doubt it's something patronising. But unlike her babbling boyfriend she knows when to hold her tongue. And while Potter is the most patient and accepting person I know, when he is riled up like this, it's better to leave him be.

During the rest of the day Potter doesn't leave my side and keeps glaring at everyone whom he suspects of even trying to look at us the wrong way. Or rather look at me the wrong way. I don't think anyone would dare to say something to him. Not directly, at least. Not yet. But that doesn't mean the tongues are not waggling behind our backs and something isn't brewing.

When the lunch comes Harry takes my hand and asks if I minded terribly if we ate by the lake. I nod. I wouldn't mind at all.

It's still quite warm outside. He summons the house elf Dobby who doesn't particularly like me, but worships the ground under Harry's feel and we have more and better food than is served at The Great Hall.

"I'm sorry Draco, for al of this mess," Potter says solemnly like someone who is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and is responsible for all the wrongs happening in said world. Ridiculous.

"For what," I sound more irritated and snappish than I intended and that is not the right way to approach it. "You have nothing to be sorry about," I try to make my voice softer. "It's not your fault. Believe me, I knew what I was signing up for. Probably better than you."

"But it's you whom they are…"

"Yes, I am the bad guy, and?"

He looks at me, those incredible green eyes full of al kind of emotion and… fear. He's scared? What is he scared of… but I think I know…

"Harry," I reach out and put my palm against his cheek. "It doesn't matter. It will pass. It won't change anything between us. I don't regret being with you and I never will."

And he looks so grateful, so ridiculously grateful and happy that I want to kick him. You are Harry Potter, I want to scream. But the thing is that he's not Harry Potter, he's just Harry and it fills me with guilt when even I forget sometimes. Would he hate me if he knew that I love Harry Potter as well? But in my defence, I love Harry a lot more.

I lean closer and kiss him gently, reassuringly.

"So, what's with Weasley," I am not sure if I have changed the topic to a better one, but I think this also is something he needs to talk about.

Harry says that Weasley did try to apologize, but he doesn't want to make that easy for him. That it did hurt when his best friend implied that their relationship was somehow less… he struggles to find the right word… real? Important to us? Deep?... just because we were both men. He gets a bit worked up again. He says that he doesn't want to hide his feelings and will not let them to bully us into hiding who we are.

I really don't deserve him. My hero. And this time I am saying it without even a trace of irony or sneer.

***

There is nothing we can do about the fact that I am not sharing all the classes with Harry. He walks me almost to the Arithmancy classroom though. We are sharing the lesson with regular seven years, since this class is not that popular and we rarely have any practical lessons. The class goes well. Vector isn't loosing time with introductions and other nonsense, even if it's the first lesson this year. I find myself quite fascinated with use of different numbers in magical rituals.

In the end of the lesson it finally happens.

"So, tell us Malfoy, how is it to go from being You-Know-Who's whore to being Potter's bitch?"

It's Zacharias Smith. And by the snickering that follows, I can assume that some agrees with him.

"Try to control your jealousy, Smith. Green is not your colour. But speaking seriously, it will be good for you to remember whose bitch exactly I am and who would be very angry if you will mess with me,"

"Going to hide in Potter's pants, aren't you? Can't hold your own."

I look at him with compassion trying to convey what a pitiful fool I think he is: "oh, I can 'hold my own' very well, Smith. But I wouldn't bother. But he's a Gryffindor, you know, with all that chivalry thing and quick temper and you can add 'very powerful' to that. And did I mention that he is very protective as well? Not that I care about what happens to you, but if he did something stupid… I don't want my lover to get in trouble, do I?"

I stroll out of the classroom as if I own the place. Granger catches up with me.

"What?" I ask when she keeps giving me those weird looks.

"I am not sure if I like that you are threatening people with Harry, I doubt he will like it,"

I snort. "You and your moral scruples, Granger. Your righteousness is clouding your judgment. If I had said nothing, that had encouraged Smith to continue. If I had simply insulted him, it would only incite an idiot like him further. In both cases Potter would hear something sooner or later. And the part about me not wanting to see him getting in trouble defending my honour… I really meant it. You should know. I hope that no one tries anything stupid. Not because of me, not because of them. Because of Potter."

"You are still calling Harry by his surname," she reproachfully states the obvious.

I am not trying to correct her, that I am calling him 'Potter' only in public and rarely when there are only two of us. I don't care what she thinks.

And I don't have time to try to talk sense into the girl. Harry is coming towards me down the hall. Besides I couldn't care less of what she thinks as long as it doesn't affect my relationship with Harry.

**Harry's POV**

Wherever we go, there are hushed whispers and even outraged looks. Even the Professors are looking at us funny. I am not sure if it's because we are a male couple, because he is a Malfoy or because they remember how we were at school.

Oh, whatever…

Last night I couldn't sleep. It's like my body simply can't deal with separation from him. Or my mind. I can't be sure.

What I know that Draco is feeling the same. Yes, we managed to find a deserted classroom during the day or use Draco's room when Zabini is out. But it's not enough. I need his warm body next to me in the bed to sleep properly. I am not getting used to not having it there.

The next day I still feel the urge to have him close by my side. The protectiveness I feel… I almost wish someone said anything to our places or tried to act up, so I could tear into them… I, myself, would be annoyed if someone was treating me that way, but thankfully Draco is more understanding and agrees to eat at the Gryffindor table.

I sit next to Hermione and it's not long before the owls start flying in, carrying the morning post. Hemione puts two sickles in the pouch tied to bird's legs and unfolds her 'Prophet'.

Today's headline is PUBLIC DEMANDS ACTION!

Apparently so called 'public' wants the Ministry to do 'something'. Something? About what? Apparently there are many different opinions on why it is wrong for me to be involved with Draco Malfoy, but what they all agree about is that something should be done to separate us.

I think I can see dark spots in front of me…

"Harry," lips brush against my ear sending something akin to electric jolt through my body and I turn my head to the left to be pulled into the most beautiful grey, no, not grey, quicksilver, eyes I have ever seen… stunning…

"Breathe, Potter," those light pink lips part to order me, I am not going to deny those lips anything.

"Snap out of it!" The beautiful voice gets harsher. "You really look as if I have been feeding you love potions right now…" someone snickers, but Draco doesn't look that amused.

I shake my head and mumble an apology and then I remember that I was angry. Still am angry.

"I hate them,"

"No, really, mate," Dean speaks up looking vaguely amused. "Didn't really notice, with plates rattling and all that."

Oh. I guess I should apologize once more.

"Look at this," Lavender pipes up and shoves a magazine under Hermione's nose, apparently not trusting me to keep my cool.

Hermione makes a hmm-ing sound: "They are trying to rally all the witches to try to 'save' you from Malfoy's evil charms, Harry. There is a reward promised to the witch who would manage to… err… 'to turn you back'."

"I could use some extra cash, Harry," Lavender smirks and winks at me from across the table. I can do nothing, but groan.

"Bloody fucking bastards!"

"Ron!" Hermione admonishes.

I look at Ron to see what the problem is; he's really gone very red.

"Don't, _Ron_, me 'Mione! How dare they drag her into this! How dare they even mention her name!"

Neville is the one who asks whose name.

"Ginny's!" Ron almost yells and doesn't look like the hand Hermione has placed on his arm in a calming gesture had been noticed at all.

But what Ginny has to do with anything?

My confusion must be showing on my face, because Hermione hurries to explain: "Someone obviously had told them that you dated Ginny and was serious about it and to them it proves that you actually like women and Malfoy had simply done something to you…"

Draco snorts: "You, better keep some distance boys. Wouldn't want to turn you all 'gay'. Didn't you know that it was what The Dark Lord wanted me for? To use my gay-ing powers and keep his enemies from propagating?"

It shouldn't be funny, but it is, and I can't hep it, I start laughing and soon am followed by Lavender, Pravaty, Dean, Neville, Hermione and even Ron's lips are twitching.

"Oh," Dean snickers. "So that was the big plan?"

"Oh, yes," Draco performs a stage whisper. "I was the secret weapon."

"I don't know," Dean shakes his head. "But you might have used up all your powers on Harry." He gives Lavender's cleavage a sidelong glance, waggles his eyebrows at her and she hits him on shoulder playfully.

She is one of the people who had accepted me and Draco without batting an eyelid. Maybe because she is a muggleborn. Dean is the same. Neville is generally very accepting of everything and everyone. Pravaty though is obviously unsure what to think, we are making her uncomfortable. But she doesn't say anything out of Gryffindor solidarity or something like that. I don't know. I don't really understand girls that well anyway.

Of course Hermione is a girl and one of my best friends, but that doesn't mean I fully understand her, does it? At least not always. Pravaty and Lavender, they are really the worst kind of them, really girly ones. Make no sense to me. Well, I got on with Ginny pretty well, but I guess that growing up with six brothers had affected her quite a lot. While Ginny was beautiful and liked nice robes and suff, she was also very independent, fierce and sarcastic at the times. She certainly grew out of giggling and simpering pretty soon.

I am afraid that after the Chamber of Secrets Ginny changed a lot. Grew up, maybe. Got over her crush on me. what we had later, it had nothing to do with that. Funny, but my heroically saving her life somehow crushed her fantasies about The-Boy-Who-Lived, the prince riding the white unicorn or whatever.

I guess it had something to do with the realisation that there was nothing romantic about what happened and it wasn't all that great as it sounded if you were one of the persons that were involved. It brought her down to earth. One time a couple of years later Ginny admitted that she was ashamed about the way she had idealised me.

But anyway. I am angry that they had dared to pull Ginny into this. My relationship with Draco has nothing to do with her and I am not thinking of what could have happened if she were still alive. She isn't. I loved her. I am not going to compare the feelings I had for Ginny to the ones I have for Draco. It would be disrespectful and unfair to both of them.

"I don't know how about you," Hermione stands up. "But I will be going. Wouldn't want to be late for Transfiguration."

Ron immediately follows her; Draco groans very silently, but my weird senses pick it up of course. At least we both have that class, so I can look after Draco. It's very strange, but since everyone knows about our relationship and it has become clear that many are against it, I feel almost physical need to be close to Draco.

It's like our relationship is being threatened and my lover is being threatened and I get really uncomfortable when he's out of my sight. I am not sure how I will manage to sleep tonight. I am almost desperate enough to seek out Madame Pomfrey. Almost.

The less people know about my change of species and all the additional effects, the better. Not that I don't trust Poppy, but one can never know who is listening.

The morning classes go smoothly. We don't have to split up and everyone is too busy to gossip much. Then comes the dinner during which Draco once again sits next to me at the Gryffindor table. He is very accepting about it which makes things a lot easier than they could be. Unfortunately the dinner is when the gossiping starts and I can hear too much of it.

Apparently with those who don't know me at all the theories, which have been developed by 'Daily Prophet', are gaining popularity. I wouldn't be that upset if at least one of them was true. But the truth is too boring, isn't it?

Draco is piling chips on my plate and giving me 'the look'. There are some sausages and salad already. Oh, yes, I admit that I did zone off for a bit again. I give him a grateful smile, too sweet, judging by the fact that Draco rolls his eyes, but I know that he doesn't really mind taking care of me.

I haven't even really chewed my second chip when the door opens and four Aurors in their full regalia stroll into The Great Hall and in the direction of the Head Table. The one who is obviously in charge greets McGonagall almost respectfully, but the others are already scanning the room as if looking for something. I can't really imagine what could they want here. I know it would sound kind of self-centred to say that I am afraid that it has something to do with me.

I hope I am wrong.

And then the leading Auror informs the Headmistress that his name is Wendell Plover and he is here on official Ministry business (a pompous ass) to question… no… NO FUCKING WAY! ...they are here to question Draco Lucius Malfoy… over my dead body!

I feel him stiffen next to me. I slide my hand under the table and lay it on his thigh. I am not going to let anything happen to him if I will be able to do anything about it. McGonagall doesn't look happy at all. It's so obvious that she's one of Dumbledore's people; he also didn't want anyone to interfere with the school. For obvious reasons.

She says the usual that they don't have any right to aggravate her student's. Plover arrogantly states that Draco is not a child and so they don't have to get permission from his guardians to question him and they are 'informing' her, not begging for her permission. Aren't they courteous, the buggers. Can't believe that once I wanted to become one of them. Talk about young and stupid.

And Plover (whom I hate already) adds that if the Headmistress is 'unable' to provide them a room for their little interwiew, they will gladly take Mister Malfoy back with them. To the Ministry.

"Over my dead body," I am not going to listen to this anymore and I don't care that the light in the Great Hall are flickering and wind is rising. I reckon it will help to get the point across.

I am aware that Draco is clutching one of my hands and Hermione another. I haven't completely lost it. I can't afford it. I have to protect my mate. That notion kind of gives me the control I sometimes lack. I feel the power coursing through my body, wild and dangerous, ready to strike… but under my command.

I shrug off Hermione's and Draco's hands. I look at Draco and order him to stay with my friends and walk towards the Aurors.

"You will not take Draco Malfoy anywhere," I state.

The man splutters deeply affronted and says that he is here on Minister's orders and has an authority to do whatever…

"Is Mister Malfoy being accused of something?" Hermione had joined me.

"And you would be…" the man looks at her as if she were a bug. And things like that doesn't faze Hermione at least. I know and am proud.

She politely introduces herself and repeats the question. Professor McGonagall says that she would like to know as well.

"No, he's not. Not yet," the Auror is forced to answer.

"Ah, then an investigation has been initiated?" Hermione prods.

"Well, yes, certainly," Plover huffs.

"What investigation exactly?" Hermione continues.

"I beg your pardon?" The Auror looks a bit uncomfortable.

"What is your case, Auror Plover," Hermione is going for the kill, I have learned to recognise the look. It's the look she has when she's bout to prove someone that he's a complete fool. "To start an investigation there has to be some kind of proof that an illegal act has been committed, a testimony, a complaint has to be made, handed in to the Auror office. The Auror office has to accept it and to institute proceedings, of course if they deem such measures necessary. So, what are you investigating?"

I love Hermione, I really love her sometimes!

Plover stutters something about certain claims and complaints being made and that they are not really here to interrogate Mister Malfoy, just ask some questions…

"No, no," Hermione refuses to listen. "I don't think you understand me. If you come here as an Auror to question Mister Malfoy, he has right to know what investigation has been initiated. An Auror can't just randomly show up and start asking questions to people at their homes, workplaces, schools… of course it's different if they are crime scenes… But I am not aware that anything criminal has happened here, at least not recently."

"As far as I know, if you want to interwiew Mister Malfoy, you must politely state you reasons and ask for his cooperation, unless you have a warrant. Do you?"

"No, I don't! But the Minister…"

"Ah, but as far as I know, if the Minister has become aware of some crime or anything, he has to approach the Head of the Auror office and then the head of the Aurors who is Kingsley Shacklebolt, at the moment, would initiate an investigation if he will see the necessity, am I right? So has an investigation been initiated or not?"

It's kind of cute the way she is standing there, a very lithe girl with big hair, arms crossed over her chest and a feet stamping against the stone floor impatiently.

"No, but…" Plover will never win this.

"I am very sorry, Auror Plover, but it's obvious that you can't prove that you have a good reason to question Mister Malfoy. I don't think that he will be willing to answer your questions. Come Harry. Our food is getting cold."

We return to our places and plover angrily stomps out of the hall with his cronies trailing after him.

"thanks, Granger," Draco murmurs. I can see he's impressed.

"It was nothing," Hermione scoffs. "It's obvious that Scrimgeour read 'the Prophet', received a couple of howlers and decided that this was a good chance to get back at Harry or the Malfoy family. He obviously bypassed Shacklebolt and ordered those Aurors to come here, which is a breech of procedure, but if they got dirt on Malfoy, no one would have been bothered about that. But they don't have right to simply show up here like that. Without a good reason, not talking about an order from Kingsley. Really, those people at the Ministry think they can do as they wish, someone should tell them about civil rights…"

"So what? We will wait until they get it? The order." Draco interrupts her rant impatiently.

"Next time we will be ready Malfoy," I am taken aback. Hermione sounds almost pleased that there is trouble brewing, something to fight against. Is she missing the action or something? I wouldn't have expected that from Hermione.

"And," she adds. "Kingsley will be really hard pressed to investigate Harry's love-life. He might be forced to, but he will put up a fight, I am sure of that."

Draco looks sceptical.

"He is somewhat aware of the situation," Hemione whispers.

Now Draco looks really distraught. I shake my head and mouth 'later'. This is not the right place for that kind of discussion.

The Aurors are gone for now, but I don't actually feel better. I hate that my lover has to suffer all of this for me. I hate when they see him as some kind of pariah, when they make polls trying to determine if he is worthy of me or isn't. when they prise me and want to hex him.

As if I am not the one who has wronged Draco, probably hurt him more than he had ever hurt me.

We never talk about that though. And it's eating at me. The guilt.

**Draco's POV**

As we walk back to our tower, I can feel Potter seething besides me. He's angry, that's clear enough. And something else. I asked Blaise to go to the Library or do whatever he does (I don't want to know probably), but stay away from our room for at least two hours.

When the door closes I stat with the first question: "So what exactly Kingsley Shacklebolt knows?"

Potter says that he is not sure about how much the man knows, just that Shacklebolt was in the Order and is aware that I spent some time at the Godric's Hollow before I was arrested and brought before the Wizengamot. He and some Aurors, slash, members of The Order, covered tat one up for Harry. Good.

„Kingsley is very reasonable, he won't go witch-hunting," Potter blurts out.

Excuse me? Witch-hunting?

Potter laughs (I don't see what's funny) and explains, well, he doesn't really explains, but says it's a muggle expression. Another one of those, you better not try to figure out. But for obvious reasons I don't really like this one. Damn, muggles… if I started talking about muggle hunting McGonagall would take points (she actually did on my second year).

"Damn them," Potter swears. "God, Draco, I am so sorry. They have no right to treat you like that."

It's obvious that he has his boxers in the twist because of today. I tell him I will survive: "It's not that I didn't expect something like that. I am not naïve, Harry."

"But, Draco, God, you have to put up with so much for me… how can you be so calm about it?"

I shrug. I must admit that I am a bit pleased that he feels so grateful and praises the sacrifices I am supposedly making for him. The fact that I am not going to demand any favours doesn't mean that the Slytherin in me isn't happy to hear that my lover thinks he owes me so much. So I guess I should let him make a martyr out of me if he wishes so. Just have to make sure, the idiot doesn't notice my inner smirk.

"If they only knew that it was I who, who…" he chokes on the words and an enormous cloud slides in front of the sun of Potter's adoration that I am basking in. No, no, no, please shut up! I know what he's going to say… Why does he have to bring it up all the time? Can't he take a hint?

"Draco, I… God, I… I…." he's choking on words and looking at me with eyes bigger than that house-elve's he once stole from my face and the expression as pitiful, that's probably the reason I remembered that wretched creature…

The only topic I wished he would never touch. Why can't he just… urgh! Of course he can't. I think I go from content to furious in about five seconds.

"You, nothing, Potter! NOTHING! Do you hear me? You did nothing. Am I making myself clear?"

He looks right into my eyes: "I raped you Draco."

He says it with such conviction, serenity. No! I press palms over my ears, I am not going to listen to this, this… nonsense!

He doesn't let me. Potter pries my hands off and clutches them in his strong, tanned ones.

"Yes, Draco. I raped you. More than once. We can't just ignore it. We have been ignoring it for months now. It is not healthy and not fair. Especially now. I keep hearing what a horrible person you are and I know that it's me. I am the real monster here, not you."

The monster! Ha!

"Oh, really," I sneer at him. "And what are you going to do? Go to the Aurors, turn yourself in? Or maybe you want me to do it? Or you want to tell 'The Prophet'? Skeeter will certainly agree to write a nice article, including as much details as possible."

"In fact…"

"Shut up! Don't you dare to finish that!" I have had it with him. oh, I know that Harry can't help himself, that he is a Gryffindor to the bone, which is really fine with me, because who else would carter tolerate my whims.

"You don't understand! There is a reason, why I don't want to talk about it…"

"Because you can't accept what really happened, Draco. I fucked you without asking if you wanted it. It's rape,"

I wince; I am not a fan of such crudeness.

"I…"

'SLAP!'

I smack him on the cheek. Not even hard enough to hurt, but enough to shut him up, to get his attention and to drag Potter out of that bubble of guilt he's drifting in and listen to me. And maybe, because it makes me feel better.

I push him down on the bed.

"Sit. And listen to me," I take a deep breath. Merlin, haven't I given him so much of me already, no, he wants more and more, another piece of my soul.

"Don't try to tell me that Granger didn't drag a pile of books about veela for you to read. Did you red them?"

He nods.

"And obviously didn't understand a word. Yes, you did… fuck me, as you put it so nicely and, yes, we didn't discuss it much. But did you ever hear a word from me? Did I ever tell you to stop or just 'no'? I didn't. And while it didn't really mean that I consented," I lift my hand to prevent the objections he's ready to make.

"You are a veela. You were claiming your mate, a mate who was not really protesting much. A mate whom not only you had to keep safe from others, but also a mate whom you thought you had to control, to keep others safe. Am I not right? You thought that I had done unseemly things…" and I was too proud to disabuse him of that notion.

"Veela in you **had** **to** gain control over his mate to keep the mate from doing harm again and that was exactly what you did. You have to understand! It was not your fault! At least not the way you imagine it!"

"But Draco, for you it still must have felt…"

"Yes, we come to my part in all of it," I know I sound bitter. Bitterness is ugly and a part of me is screaming that it's not wise to let your lover to see ugliness in you, but, it's already too late for that.

"The reason I really never wanted to touch the subject, Harry. Don't you see? I allowed you, as you say it, 'rape me'. I never said 'no'. Never even showed any sign that I was not fine with it. I never said anything about my place in Dark Lord's army. The fact that I was more of a prisoner myself… I held to my stupid pride, as if I ever had any… I just let you to do with me whatever you wanted… I don't really know what I was trying to prove, but it all of it was about me. Not you."

"You wanted the truth? So there it is. I am the sick one in this relationship. I am the freak. You did what was natural to you under those circumstances. I could have stopped you, at least tried, but I didn't. now tell me, who is sick here?"

"Draco… no, Draco, you are not sick… you are the most wonderful..."

"You are delusional…" I laugh out on a bit of hysterical note.

"No, I am not. And you are who you are and… I still don't understand how you can want me after everything, even if you are right about the veela thing…"

"Of course I am right about the veela thing! And I can still want you. If you have to know, this is nothing new for me. people have been doing it to me since I was born, fucking me over. Starting with father… surely you remember him… well, my father was raping my mind for fifteen years and doing it deliberately and I still wanted him."

I see his expression change and as inappropriate it is, but I burst out laughing. "It was a metaphor, Potter. He never touched me like that. He hardly ever touched me at all, he just… I don't think I can explain. Messed with my mind a lot. I was his and I would have done anything he had asked of me, the same with my mother, the same with the Dark Lord and…" I can't tell him about Severus.

"I have always belonged to someone, Harry. I have always been under someone's control and to be under yours after the Dark Lord… well, it wasn't so bad and that is not the point anyway, the point was that I let you to do with me, what you wished, because, because… I just did, I am like that… it is twisted, but…"

I am blinking furiously, trying to keep the tears at the bay. I am already feeling more vulnerable than I have ever wanted to. Harry opens his arms for me, but I shake my head, if I will touch him, I'll certainly start bawling, but I haven't finished yet.

"But you are different, you are not like them, they are all selfish. None of them ever wanted to know me, the real me. They all wanted to change me, to turn me into someone else or to use me. You are the first one, who wants me the way I am without any conditions, or it's the veela in you, but what does it matter?"

"And you are the only one in this world I can trust, I know that whatever you will help me if I will need it, even without getting something in return, that you will even let me go, if you will think it would be better for me. You will never pretend to be a friend, to do things for me, just because you want to fuck me. I feel safe with you."

I see the look on his face and I know what he is thinking, before he even opens his mouth to say, that it would be alright if I wanted to break up with him, that it's wrong if I am with him just because he makes me feel safe, that… I let him speak. He's so noble. It's ridiculous.

"Potter," I want to make it crystal clear. "That is the point. I know, that I could get whatever I wanted out of you, even if we broke up. You are stupid like that. I realise that it's not a necessity for me to be with you. Don't you think, it might mean that I want to be with you? Someone told me once, that we have been chasing after each other since we met. I think they were right. And I don't really want to talk about this anymore. Please."

I don't use that word very often, because my parents didn't think it was necessary for me to know it. You don't use it when you order around house-elves and people, who are lower than yourself and almost everyone is beneath Malfoys. That's not true anymore, but I just don't have the habit of finishing every sentence with 'thank-yous', 'excuse-mes' and 'pleases'. Harry knows that and he knows that, when I say 'please', I really mean that.

He smiles at me and pulls me in his lap with so much energy that we both topple over on the bed.

He's looking in my eyes in such a particular way. Curious. Sweet. Loving.

I see him still looking at me with that silly expression on his face, with those shiny eyes. He's like a stupid puppy I could have kicked around, but he would be still crawling back to me, to lick my hands…

The thought sends shivers down my spine.

He takes a strand of my hair and twines it round his finger.

"You are a better person than you think, Draco,"

And I can't snort or roll my eyes, when he says it like that. With such conviction. I decide to let it go.

His fingers are running lightly over the knobbles of my spine.

I decide that this is when I turn his attention of the topic I never wanted to discuss to begin with.

I part my lips and run the tip of my tongue along my upper lip.

I am never sure when Harry knows that I am trying to manipulate him and when he doesn't. I am strongly suspecting that sometimes he gives in rolling his eyes behind y back, because it doesn't cost him much and he likes to please me.

But anyway, subtle manipulation works pretty well and any suggestion, that has something to do with sex is usually received pretty well.

***

Blaise doesn't knock when he returns. Well, yes, it is his room, but he knew that I was there with Potter…

But of course the pervert probably doesn't mind to catch us with Potters tongue down my throat and hands up my shirt. No, he's enjoying this, but whatever… I am having a lot of fun and he isn't. I bet he's jealous.

Yes, that thought warms my little Slytherin heart.

TBC

A/N: I am too busy with work to write much. Sorry guys. But I will do, what I can.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author**: TheSiner

**Title**: Unconditionally - continued

**Genre**: Drama, Romance.

**Pairing**: Harry/Draco (main), Ron/Hermione

**Summary**: HP/DM slash. Sequel to **Unconditionally** Draco and Harry are happy together, but others have hard time accepting it.

**Rating**: depends on which site you are on

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates.

**Warnings**: slash (duh!), swearing, character death mentioned, sex, dubious consent, some fluff. Not beta-edited, won't make sense if you don't read the first story.

**Setting**: after Voldemort' demise. Kind of HBP compliant. But ignores DH.

AN: If you are reading the story on – it's **censored** version, meaning less explicit. If you want naughty parts – go to my account on .net

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**5.**

**Ron's POV**

Since the visit from the Aurors it has been… well, I am not as good with words as 'Mione, right? She could possibly find a smart term for what's happening, I will simply call it 'crazy'.

'The Prophet' just wouldn't leave Harry alone. Not a big surprise, because there hasn't been anyone as famous and as openly gay as him, since when… Like ever, maybe? Sure, there has always been some rumour going around about some people, like Amelia Bones, for example. But it has always been just some talk in the kitchen. Harry, on the other hand, has announced it publicly, so it's no wonder that it's the only topic, which everyone and their dog is discussing like mad.

Oh, and they all believe that they have a say in this.

Personally, I don't see him as 'gay' or something. He is just Harry for me and if I had to call him anything, I would call him 'Malfoy-oriented' or something. I guess, because I haven't really seen him sweet on any other bloke or men in general and probably because for some reason I am more comfortable to think about it that way. Hermione wouldn't want to hear it, but I would be happier if Harry was dating a girl. Sorry, but that's how I feel.

It has gotten worse at the school as well. Sure, there are many who stand by Harry Like me, Mione, Dean, Lav, Neville, Luna. Oh, and Parkinson and that weirdo Zabini of course. Then there are those who are not close to us, but neutral and accepting. And then there are some who are trying to be accepting, but obviously Harry's relationship with Malfoy is making them uncomfortable.

Like the Patil twins. They are pure-bloods and obviously of the conservative kind. But at least Padma and Pravati keep their mouths shut. Not like some… turns out that there are too many of those that are 'hostile' (I am citing Hermione here). Some are against homosexuality in general and some don't like Malfoy being Harry's boyfriend and some don't like Harry being gay, some don't like that they are so open about it, they say that they don't care what queers do in their bedroom, but they don't want to see them. Which is kind of stupid, because it's not like they even snog in public or anything and school rules don't say that you are not allowed to sit next to each other or hold hands.

But that's just the school. There are ore many different fractions in the Wizarding World and every one has their own opinion on what we should do with Harry. Or Malfoy.

They should just leave them alone. Mind their own business.

Not that I wouldn't have liked if my best mate had picked someone else. Oh, I would have thrown them a party, were it a wizard or witch. But I am starting to accept the fact that he won't. Sometimes it pisses the shit out of me when he acts as if he's been tied to Malfoy's apron strings or something. Me, being me, blunt and with emotional range of a teaspoon (which is totally not true, by the way), one time I couldn't stand looking at the 'dynamics of their relationship'(I am citing Hermione again) and I let Harry what I thought about it, to put it lightly.

But Harry just smiled and told me that I was being a bit hypocritical there. He made a stupid face and started cooing: 'Yes, Hermione, of course, Hermione, as you wish, Hermione…' Alright, alright… I told him to shut up, that I got the point.

It's just hard to accept that Harry and Malfoy are basically the same as Hermione and I. That they are as serious about it and all, even if they are guys. But Harry has a point he probably wasn't trying to make. Malfoy is such a girl. He is moody like one, certainly. With all the primping and his perfect hair. And he wears jewellery. This shiny stuff, with gems and everything. Rings, bracelets and necklaces. I guess it's a good thing that he's too much of a wuss to pierce his ears!

I don't care, if it's bigotry or whatever, I say that Malfoy has embraced his gayness in full.

I think it wouldn't be hard to think of Malfoy as of a girl. That would be also getting him back for being such a prick. A private revenge kind of.

Dean, Harry and Neville are sitting on Dean's bed, Harry is telling them about the Godric's Hollow. I say he's done a good job with the house.

"…well, yeah, I don't have electricity in the house. It's never has been there, so if I wanted I would have to make everything anew. But I don't think that the wards I have on the house would allow that. But, well, I have a fridge, I just don't plug it in. I put a chilling charm on it, so works and feels like a normal fridge."

"And what about a Tv?" Dean asks.

"Sorry, mate," Harry shakes his head. "Doesn't like magic."

Dean scratches his head: "If I would decide to live in the magical world, I would miss the box, you know. No football."

"Well, we went to Cinema a lot,"

"You took Malfoy to see movies?" It's me who asks that. I know what a movie is, it's actually very cool. But Malfoy as one of the wizard supremacists or at least had been raised as one. I am not sure that he hates everything muggle anymore; well, if he does, then that doesn't keep him from squeezing his arse into obscenely tight jeans.

Harry shrugs and smirks: "He can't get enough of it."

"Too much information mate!"

"I meant movies!"

"Of course…"

Dean and I we both snicker. Malfoy hooked on muggle cinema, isn't that funny? Neville obviously has no idea what a movie is, so I guess I should explain it to him…

Our conversation is interrupted by the knock on the door.

"It's open!" Dean calls out.

The door swings open and for some reason, Zabini is standing at our door with his trunk floating behind him.

There is silence for a couple of moments before Harry asks Zabini what he's doing there.

"Oh, and I thought you'll never ask. Why, of course I am moving in!"

Moving in? Why?

"Zabini," I say when no one else says anything. "This is the Gryffindor boys' room."

"Oh, really," the git rolls his eyes; I can see why he and Malfoy are such good friends. "The wrong door then, I was actually looking for Gryffindor girl's room. I don't think Lavender will mind to bunk together, she looks like a very friendly girl."

Wha…

"Merlin! You really are daft!" He exclaims. "I am moving in. Potter is moving out. We are swapping the rooms! Great idea, isn't it?"

Why would he want to… "Why?"

He levitates the trunk inside and drops it with a bang in the middle of floor. "Why? Isn't that obvious? Have you looked at Potter or Malfoy? Really looked. Well, I'll tell you that the Princess there," he gestures towards the Slytherin boys' room. "Gets worse than Pansy when she's PMS-ing if he doesn't get his beauty sleep. And you won't want to see that, believe me."

Dean snickers.

"And, Draky-poo hasn't been sleeping that well. And I believe that Potter here hasn't been very happy either," he finishes with a wink.

We all look at Harry and when he puts it like that, I guess Zabini is right. Harry looks a bit tired these days.

"I think it would make things better for everyone if Potter was living with Malfoy. No?"

That actually makes sense.

Harry asks if Zaibni truly doesn't mind. From the way he's perked up, it's obvious that he likes the idea.

"Not really," I think the smirk never leaves Zabini's face for longer than a couple of minutes. "I have a chance to feel as noble and self-sacrificing as a Gryffindor, don't I? Besides Draco wouldn't put out anyway. I have been trying for six years, but now when he had shacked up with Potter… I can recognize a lost case. It's time to move on…" he leers at me and Dean.

Merlin! The guy… he… he has no shame! I do hope he's just joking…

"Stop standing there like an idiot and start packing Potter!" Zabini commands. "Make sure to take the sheets with you, and maybe a strong _Scourgify_ on the bed wouldn't be amiss. I can't really know what you've been up to in that bed while dreaming of Draco, eh, Potter?"

Well, at least Zabini is not a bore. If it's a good thing, though, - time will show.

**Harry's POV**

It's pure heaven. I haven't spent a night sleeping next to Draco what seems like for ages. Doesn't matter if it's actually just a couple of weeks. I love it when his face is the first thing I see when I open my eyes in the morning.

Besides there are so many very good ways to wake someone.

I sit up and carefully pull the blanket off him. Draco obviously misses the warmth; he tries to snuggle into the sheet and the pillow and makes an unhappy grumbling sound. When we sleep together, we always sleep naked. Not very practical to dress before bed when the clothes come off the moment the lights are out.

So here he is, gloriously naked and half-hard already. Beautiful. He is simply beautiful and I think I will never tire of saying that.

I straddle Draco's legs not actually touching him. For a moment, I stop; I can't quite decide where to start. He looks so delicious. Everywhere. I wonder if it would be possible to come from just looking at him. I guess it might. But there is no need to find out, because I can touch him as much as I want, why wouldn't I?

I lean down, wet my lips a bit and my tongue start it's way from his knee along his thigh up to his hip. His skin is soft and a bit salty, Draco's thigh is pleasantly rounded and lightly toned, he has put on some weight and is not as scrawny anymore. Slender, but not unhealthily thin. Draco's body is a strange, tantalising mix of gracefulness, angularity and softness. There is the elegant line of his body, the slim waist and long limbs. There is his jutting hipbones and thin ankles and then there are his plump pectorals and absolutely tasty, round buttocks. The deliciously bony knobs of his spine.

Draco groans and rolls on his back giving me all of the access I could wish for. I give his inner thigh a lick and nibble on his hipbone. I can see his 'interest' rising. I think I am going to go for my prize; we don't have much time after all, with classes and everything.

"Potter, you beast,"

I look up and meet the pale grey eyes that are trying to glare at me, but didn't quite manage. The smirk pulling at the corner of Draco's lips really ruins it.

I think our stay at Hogwarts is not going to be as torturous as I assumed.

I wonder why I am surprised to be summoned by McGonagall. I shouldn't have expected it, but I guess that sometimes I simply don't think. When I am doing something, I forget that there will be consequences of my actions and I fail to think about them. I am a doer, not a strategist. That's Ron and even Hermione sometimes.

Draco however looks like he has already been expecting to hear from the Headmistress. When I scratch my head trying to figure out what is it she wants, he snorts and lets me know that 'the old prude' (it's not a secret that he doesn't like her) is most likely put out by our moving in together.

"Bollocks!"

I find the fact that she knows already disturbing enough, but to face her and talk about, that is simply too much. Besides, Draco looks like he is about to step on the war-path. Not good.

Draco smirks at me, I bet the bastard is amused that i am about to be embarrassed in front of the Head of my house. Even if she isn't that anymore, she will always be for me.

As soon as we walk through the door, it becomes obvious that professor McGonagall is as disapproving as ever. Her lips are pinched, hands joined I front of her, posture stiff. I am instantly ready to apologise and move back to my old room.

But Draco looks ready for a fight. No, not just ready, but eager even.

"I assume, you are aware, why I wanted to see you, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," her tone is stern and unforgiving.

I nod.

Draco crosses his hands over his chest and sticks out his jaw stubbornly. Shit. He is going to make it worse.

McGonagall launches into full frontal attack. She has been made aware of the changes we have made considering our living arrangements. Unwarranted changes. She thinks it is not proper for us to share a room.

"As the headmistress of this school I can't support it," is the verdict.

Draco snorts. Loudly. Here we go. I can't say, that I didn't see it coming. I am well aware that there is nothing much I can do to stop him.

"You wish to add something, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, indeed, I have. As far as I know, there are no rules against two students of the same gender and the same age sharing a room. There are no rules against student's from different houses sharing a room as long as none of them try to move into a different tower from that, which they had been sorted into. That also doesn't apply, since Apprentices' Quarters are 'neutral territory'."

He gives Draco a pointed look: "Mr. Malfoy, I am well aware that you and Mr. Potter's relationships are not those of two students."

I am starting to feel hotness creep up my neck, but Draco is not fazed.

"So?" He challenges. "There is also no rule against that. There is one against public demonstration of affection and we are ready to comply with those. But student's rooms are considered 'private' as opposed to public, so they can have whatever relationship they wish behind closed door. I don't see a problem there."

"Mr. Malfoy, only because there are no rules that directly address…"

"Yes, there are no rules, because apparently the school Governors in past were not willing to admit that homosexual wizards and witches might even be in existence. Not that they were not expelled – excuses that were more proper were usually made. At least before Dumbledore. But none of it matters, what does is that there are no rules against us sharing a room."

McGonagall looks like she is about to say something, but Draco doesn't let her.

"You demand that we change our behaviour in certain ways. You personally. We are not breaking any school rules; I would call it abuse of authority, Headmaster. The opposite of favouritism. Discrimination. Don't you agree?"

"You have a way with words Mr. Malfoy,"

"And what does that have to do with anything? You know very well, that I am right and I can prove it. To the board of governors, if needed."

I think McGonagall wants to hex him. I personally want to stop this, before it goes too far and we have a repetition of the bouncing ferret.

"It's alright. We will get a room at the Three Broomsticks or maybe buy a house at Hogsmeade," I try, because one is clear – I am not going to part from Draco. I tried, it didn't work.

Oops. I guess I have made a mistake. They are both glaring at me now. What? Sounds perfectly reasonable to me.

"Mr. Potter. It is out of question! Not all the Death Eaters have been apprehended. You would be putting yourself in danger. Besides, it would be disruptive to other students and to the overall morale of this school, if you were living off the grounds. Can you imagine what the Prophet and other sharp tongues say?"

I guess possibilities are endless, they have never lacked imagination...

"I am not going to live above a dingy pub, Potter! As for a house, we have one already, don't we? Or it's more like three between us, at least here, in Britain. Probably more. This is ridiculous!"

McGonagall wants to say something else, but Draco cuts her off: "This is all groundless harassment. It was not even Potter or I who wanted to switch the room. Think about your decision Headmistress, think well, and remember that the rules are on our side, that we are both adults and the less fuss you will make about this, the less fuss there will be. Don't you agree? Come Harry."

I shoot professor an apologetic look, but Draco already has me by the arm and he is dragging me outside.

"Draco!"

"She will leave us be, as far as there are no rules against us living together, there is nothing she can do officially. As long as we don't give in, we can share the room."

"How do you know about those rules?" I am quite sure that he didn't sneak down to the Library last night to do some research, smug bastard. I mean I am very sure, because I know where he was – at the receiving end of my cock.

"I researched them with Blaise back in the third year, when he realised that he was not very picky… I mean bisexual. We were worried that if he did something, he would get into some kind of trouble. It turned out that the school rules simply ignore the subject. Boys are banned from girl's dorms, public displays of affection are forbidden, and there is a cause that school will not take responsibility for any teenage pregnancies. It is ironic, they were so prejudiced that they won't even admit that homosexuality existed and thus they provided us with an opportunity to do whatever we wanted, even if not wherever we liked."

Merlin, but I like Draco when he is like this, all confident, devilishly clever and pleased that he had managed to outsmart someone. Actually, I think his bitchiness is incredibly charming, not that I would ever dare to repeat that aloud… unless I change 'bitchiness' to 'Slytheriness', use it as a code name. That would be amusing, to call Draco something without him realising it.

**Draco's POV**

I don't believe in coincidences. Oh, I do think they exist, happen whatever, but it still doesn't change the fact that I personally don't believe in them. I think coincidences are for idiotic, reckless Gryffindors like Potter. It's his kind that get good luck, flukes. They get smiled upon by fortune and all that.

In my world all the coincidences are unfortunate or they are carefully devised by someone. When Harry and I ran into Sandrine Scrimgeour on the Hogsmeade weekend, like hell I believe it is a coincidence. Well, maybe at first, before she gives my boyfriend, my lover once over and that 'you're the wizard of my dreams' look and I start wishing her painful death.

"Harry Potter, it's been a while," she says and I raise an eyebrow. What a silly, little hussy. She addresses him as Harrypotter. Could have as well called him The-Boy-Who-Lived, because it's very clear that is whom she thinks she's talking to. Not Harry, but Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the hero and while Harry doesn't exactly realise it, I am sure that somewhere on subconscious level he does.

Then she turns to me with a seemingly polite: "And you must be Draco."

Her expression at the same times says 'I wish you were dead'. Well, it's mutual.

However, I respond with a smug 'keep dreaming about him darling' smirk and tell her what a pleasure it is to meet her, even if Harry has never mentioned her name. I guess I have not lost my touch even after consorting with too many Gryffindors for too long since her most charming smile turns into the most strained one. I am tempted to offer her a cheering charm or a sugar-quill, since her mood is obviously turning sour.

Then Harry's arm slides around me and his large hand settles on my hip, pulling me closer to his side. It means that he is suspecting something – it's a silent order to play nice. The thing is that poor Miss Scrimgeour is not really going to appreciate the gesture. How can she appreciate something she doesn't understand?

I get her figured out. She's rich and beautiful and her daddy is an influential man. She is used to getting her way. When it doesn't work out like that for the first time, it confuses and upsets her greatly. She throws a tantrum, not publicly though, because it wouldn't do to loose her face. But she's not stupid. She gets over it and she is ready to be devious when simply demanding doesn't work.

I would know her type.

However, she lacks finesse. She can't really hide what she feels. Sadly, I have the first hand experience with that too, but nobody's perfect.

At the moment she is telling Harry about what a great job she has been doing at St. Mungo's. Helping al those poor people. What an angel of compassion. I don't snort or roll my eyes though, because it is not hard to be a bigger man when Harry's fingers are rubbing against **my** hipbone.

"You know, I really feel like I am doing something important, really helping," self-absorbed much?

No matter how impressed Harry looks, this is not some contest in goodness. Harry is not a prize she is getting if she proves that she is a better person than I am. Besides he doesn't really look **that **impressed. I think the witch simply puts Harry on guard. With a good reason. Potter can be obtuse at times, but his instincts are damn good.

Then Weasley and Granger turn up and Weasley proposes that we go and have a drink at Three Broomsticks and Harry, the ever-chivalrous Gryffindor, invites Sandrine and her two sycophants along.

I have to stifle a sigh, but whatever. As long as it is, I, who gets to sit on Potter's lap.

The pub is packed. I am not so sure about going inside after what happened with Rosmerta. Just because Wizengamot cleared me, doesn't mean that everything has been forgotten. In fact I do believe people would be spitting at me if there wasn't a chance they could miss and accidentally hit their Hero.

Well, too bad. Harry is close at my side and if I think about it, as long as we are together, I feel like there is no place I would be afraid to go.

Potter orders himself butterbear and wine for me. I let Sandrine see my triumphant smirk. Just my lack, that Harry is as socially astute as a blast ended screwt and woudn't think of offering **her** a drink. Your beloved hero has eyes for his boyfriend only, honey. Oh, Salazar, I sound like… like Queenie, Daphne Greengrass, she was a vindictive bitch ready to sit throats at sight of competition.

I think it's pitiful how she's trying to suck up to my boyfriend.

Granger starts asking Sandrine something about St. Mungo's. I can't even be properly angry with her, because, I know that she is actually curious, not only encouraging Miss Sunshine to brag about her amazing healing skills.

"-and there is this little green-eyed boy, you know what, Harry, he reminds me of you so much… the poor thing was so miserable, I was so glad, when I could help him to feel better. I love children, I can't wait till I can have my own. You would like to have children, Harry, wouldn't you?"

Harry is obviously taken aback by her question. Of course he is. That's not a question one asks a wizard one barely knows: "Well… I guess I would…"

"Of course, you would. Who wouldn't?"

I see Granger narrow his eyes. I don't know exactly what is her problem, but it's definitely with Sandrine.

"Oh, but that was insensitive of me!" And this is a bit melodramatic. "After all you and Draco… well, you know… you both must be very much in love to give up so much to be together. Family life, children…"

I want to strangle her. May I?

"You know, Sandrine," Granger beats me to saying something to the little bitch, which is a shame, but I think whatever she's about to say would be interesting, because her voice is hard as steal.

"You are wrong. Not everyone wants to have children, and there is nothing wrong with that. Besides, if Harry really wanted to become a father, he could always adopt. Or he could use a surrogate."

What? I am not stupid, but have to admit that Granger confuses me once in a while, usually with her muggle trivia. So that "surrogate" she's talking about must be a muggle thing as well.

"What is a surrogate?"

"Ah, wizards don't do this, right? I meant Harry could use a surrogate mother to have children. It's a woman who agrees to carry a baby for someone else. Usually she does it for a couple who can't have children for some reason."

"Why would anyone do that!" Sandrine exclaims and for once, I agree with her. That sounds barbaric.

"Many of them are very generous, they want to give others chance to experience the joy of parenthood," Merlin, but she does sound like a textbook or some kind of pamphlet. "I guess, sometimes they do it for money."

That I could believe.

"But how can a woman give away her own child!"

"Well, these days they usually take the egg from another woman, an anonymous donor, so the surrogate is not related to the baby, that she's carrying. That should make it a bit easier."

"That's disgusting!" Sandrine exclaims.

"No, it's not. It's admirable. It's even easier for a woman to have a child. She can use a sperm bank, become pregnant. The donors are always anonymous."

"Muggle women become pregnant by random men? Why would a woman do that?"

Yes, that's a good question. Why would a woman carry a child without having her husband's support?

"Why not?"

"But what about bloodlines, inheritances?"

Granger rolls her eyes: "Some people just want to be parents. Without improving their status and muggles usually don't care about bloodlines."

"Alright," Sandrine pretends that she has conceded, but I think she just doesn't want to fight with someone who is close to Harry. "But they are muggles. If a wizard had a child with a muggle woman, the baby could turn out to be a squib!"

"That's not the end of the world!" Well for Granger it might not be. But I am not even going to contemplate what my fate would have been if I had been born squib. I suspect the plot at the north of the grounds is where I would end up... Not that I am going to say it aloud.

Granger and Sandrine both turns towards Harry. As if he was some kind of source of greater wisdom.

There's an awkward moment, before Harry realises that they are waiting for him to speak his mind.

"Well, I think a child is a child and parents should love their children no matter what,"

Granger looks at him with motherly pride. She can be so ridiculous sometimes, that I find it almost cute.

"But it might be unfair to create a child who would never have magic like parents on purpose."

I feel it's time for me to say something: "Harry, no child of yours will ever be a squib. You are too powerful. Besides, if magic was only hereditary, then we would be spared Granger's lectures."

Weasley snickers and she rolls her eyes. Merlin, but I have just realised that they have gotten used to my remarks!

"Draco, play nice!" Harry chastises me. But he knows I'm just teasing her and so does she. I can't believe this! My snippy comments don't work on them as they should! Not anymore.

I will have to whinge about it sometime later though. I have had enough of Sandrine.

"Harry?"

"Mhm?"

"How about a walk. Just two of us. I don't think anyone would mind?" I look at Weasley and Granger deliberately ignoring Scrimgeour, not to mention her sycophants.

"No, of course we don't mind! Go, have some fun, guys," Granger is such a good witch after all.

I grin at everyone as Harry helps me to stand up and I can't help myself -I wink at Sandrine as we stroll away.

Next day our group is trying to study in the library. With Potter, Weasley and Pansy amongst us, it's not easy. Weasley keeps zoning out, every fifteen minutes or so, his eyes go all glassy and Granger has to pinch him to get his attention back on work.

Pansy is only marginally better; she has also never been the academic type.

Harry is as bad, only in a different way. I keep pushing his hand off my thigh, but it keeps returning there, if I let the hand stay, it starts sliding up and up and... He keeps apologising, but in ten minutes, the hand is back. He's not even doing it consciously.

It's not that I mind the attention, but I can't concentrate when he's all over me!

And as if we already weren't getting nowhere, an owl lands on the table in the front of Potter and pushes a letter into his face.

"What is it, Harry?"

Merlin, but Granger really doesn't know her place. What makes her think that she should be privy to Potter's correspondence?

"It's from Kingsley," he says and gives her the letter.

Oh, fine! Harry lets her manage his life, the lazy bastard. No wonder that she thinks she has right to meddle into his affairs all the time. She can e useful, but it is becoming annoying.

She scans the parchment: "Hm, well, it says that Scrimgeour is trying to talk Kingsley into investigating… well, basically investigating your relationship. How ridiculous."

"Can't he just order Shacklebolt to do it?"

"No, Harry. At least not without a good reason. But there is a lot of public pressure. Scrimgeour can't just have Harry tested for love potions. To do that he needs witnesses, instigators."

"He wants to test Harry for love potions?" Funny that Weasley finds that idea so outrageous, disconcerting as it is, he must be warming up to me!

"Are you not reading the Prophet Ron? Anyway, that kind of blood test has to be instigated by possible victim's family or closest friends, or someone close to them. Random people or Ministry toadies don't qualify. But still, Shacklebolt is warning us to be careful."

Us? I wonder if I will ever get used to this big, happy Gryffindor family. But I guess they can be useful as allies sometimes, minions would be better, of course, but sometimes one has to make the best of what he has.

"Hey, baby," hot breath caresses my ear followed by brush of lips. "Planning world domination?"

Annoying bastard. Pansy snickers. Bitch.

"But why does this blood test or whatever has to be instigated by relatives? Can't the Minister just tell hem to do it?"

"No, Harry. The law is there to protect wizards and witches. Otherwise, Ministry officials could easily collect samples of everyone's blood. Can you imagine how much can be done with a wizard's blood?"

I can see from the look on Potter's face, that the answer is 'not exactly', but luckily, Granger lets it go. I am not in a mood to be lectured by her. Especially, when I am about to do some lecturing on my own.

"That is not the only reason, Granger."

That gets her attention: "Well, of course it is not. If anyone could just demand that people where tested for love potions then everyone who didn't like someone's lover would be demanding that their get tested. The Ministry would be very busy with investigating claims of jealous and jilted lovers."

"You are not wrong, they are lazy like that. But there is another reason for the law. It allows families feed their children love potions and get them marry the right person, when they become rebellious. As long as the family raises no objection, no one cares that the prospective heir is drugged up to his eyes."

"But that's awful!"

"That's how it works."

"Yeah, with purebloods like you," Weasley mutters under his breath.

"Ro-"

"Yes, Weasley," I don't let Harry to defend me this time, because Weasley is right and I don't want Harry jumping to my defence all the time anyway. "What do you think my father would have done if he was still around to discover that…" looking for a word-

"You are a raging poof?"

I don't bother glaring at Pansy, no point to waste a good glare. She's incorrigible.

"That's sick."

I don't want to argue. I could. I could tell Harry that he could never possibly understand, but for some reason I hate saying that. Sometimes it's true, there are things that certain people would never understand. And that is exactly what makes it pointless to say it.

"It's all about propagation," ah, Pansy has decided to grace us with her wisdom. "We like homosexuals as long as they marry and spawn. The thing you, Potter, are doing with Draco is unheard of. The most eligible bachelor of our generation is publicly gay? How can anyone not to hate that? All those poor mothers who had a dream to have you marry their daughters. You are not only famous and powerful, you are rich too. You could pick anyone you wanted."

"But they are attacking Draco, not me!"

"Potter, they have to blame someone and they can't blame you, since you are their darling. That's why they are blaming Draco, because if he has turned you gay, corrupted you, you can be saved if Draco is removed."

"That's ridiculous!"

Pansy snorts.

"And dangerous," Granger states.

I wish she wasn't right. Sometimes, when Harry is not around or when someone looks at me as if they wished that I had never been born… I can't say it doesn't trouble me.

"I will protect you,"

Harry.

Fuck you, Harry!

I don't understand, but I want to tell him to shut up and rip off that hand which is on the small of my back right now.

"Oh, that's it!" Granger springs to her feet. "With you I will never finish my runes essay. I am moving to the next table."

She's absolutely right: "What a wonderful idea, Grenger. Know what? I am still working on mine too. I think I will join you. Hands off my person Potter!"

I need a minute for myself and I think burying myself in school-work is a great idea right now. Besides I like seeing that poor puppy look on him sometimes…

**Harry's POV**

I guess, saying that I hate Halloween would be exaggerating it a lot. Hate is a strong word, or so people say and I think I agree completely. I remember hating. My fifth year was a nightmare and one of the reasons was that I spent it hating Voldemort, hating Snape, hating Umbridge and the helplessness that I was feeling. I was so damn angry all the time.

But when I think about it… some of that hate and anger I was most likely Voldemort's. I just wish I could forget it.

And I wish some of those things, which I associate with Halloween had never happened. But if that's too much to ask for, then I wish it wasn't the biggest wizarding holiday and everyone wasn't so chipper about it.

It's kind of stupid, but perfectly describes my relationship with the Wizarding world. For them it's the anniversary of Voldemort's first fall, for me – the day when I lost my parents. It is not that I want to walk all day around crying, but I would like to be left alone.

"Hey, Harry!" Some overexcited Gryffindor runs past me on the way to the Great Hall, I think he's a fifth year. Barry or Berry.

"Merlin! Whoever that brat was, I am going to write his mother and tell her that fornicating with a banshee was not her brightest idea ever!" It's actually a relief that Draco is in a fouler mood than I this morning. I am ready to let him abuse everyone who thinks that they should wish me happy Halloween or, God forbid, thank me for saving the Wizarding world today.

In fact, I think, it's cute when Draco is a bit grumpy and his insults can be very creative and amusing. Even Ron thinks so, no matter how hard he tries to hide it from everyone, especially from Hermione, who thinks that insulting people is not nice.

I know she's right, but Draco is never as mean as he once was and some people deserve it.

The only bright spot of the day is the owl I get from Mrs. Weasley, Molly. It's the first one since my birthday party. I wonder about the timing.

"I knew she will come around, mate," Ron pats my back.

Then he turns towards Draco with an almost maniacal grin on his face: "You should be getting ready Malfoy. I bet you will be spending Christmas at the Burrow."

The look of panic on Draco's face is the second bright spot on the face of this awful day.

TBC

A/N: Yes, as you see, I am back. Writing again. No promises about timely updates, but you can expect some. The reviews I kept getting brought me back, even if I am very busy.


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Harry Potter, Drama, Romance